


Son of Leviathan

by Smul_shinya



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Angst, Child Noctis Lucis Caelum, Chronic Pain, Daemons, Family Reunions, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Human Experimentation, Hurt Noctis Lucis Caelum, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Mutation, No beta we die like Noctis, Noctis Whump, Older Gladiolus Amicitia, Older Ignis Scientia, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum, Prince Prompto Argentum, Temporary Character Death, Young Noctis Lucis Caelum, lunyx, pregame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2019-12-25 14:52:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18263591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smul_shinya/pseuds/Smul_shinya
Summary: What if the Marilith dragged Noctis from his family? What if the Daemon pulled the young prince into the depths of the ocean?What if the Astrals ACTUALLY intervened.// Or Noctis nearly dies and the astrals take some desperate measures to keep him alive.





	1. Son of Leviathan

**Author's Note:**

> HEYA~ 
> 
> I'm back at it again with my shameless fav. MERPEOPLE! I have had this idea for AGES and I am so excited to finally share it because let me be clear--I love torturing these characters.
> 
> I really appreciate all your comments/kudos/and feedback but keep in mind, there is no beta and I dont take hate owo
> 
> THANK YOU ALL <3  
> ~ Shinya Argentum ~

It was an out of the way outlook, a small construction that jutted out of a ragged cliff. The wood was fresh—meticulously maintained despite its location. A fence was built, encapsulating the balcony in detailed wooden carvings of fish and at the very center of the railing was a name on a little golden slide. It was small, precious.

_Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum CXIV_

_May the Astrals guide you to a better world._

The king felt helplessly small as he sat on the rocking chair his shield had set out for him years and years ago. His fingers gripped the armrests with a lax resignation. The years had stretched on till eternity, every day feeling like a punishment without the little star of his world.

_No father should outlive their child._

As the king rocked in the wooden chair, he found himself closing his eyes, allowing the warmth of the setting sun to wash over him. In these quite moments, with the crash of the waves against the distant rocks at the base of the cliff, he could imagine that he was somewhere else.

He could imagine his tiny son bounding through the sandy beach. He could remember how hyper his laugh was and how he’d pick up armfuls of shells and waddle over to dump his treasures on his father.

He remembered holding Noctis close as the waves crashed over their bare toes and tickled their skin. He never stopped laughing. He was so beautiful and wonderful. His world had felt so bleak when his wife had died mere hours after childbirth. He would never forget how cold the room felt, and the knowledge that Shiva herself had come to escort the new mother to the afterlife. The king was terrified, holding a bundle that was too small, taken from his mother too early. His little curled fists and the sputtering nose he made. Regis had looked down at the small, soft life that had entered this far too cruel world.

“It must be very scary. Too loud. Too cold.” He’d adjusted the blankets, listened to the soft sounds of breathing sunshine. He smiled, pressing his lips to the soft creamy black hair. He didn’t know what to say to express such love. It was overwhelming, similar to the day he’d put on the Ring of the Lucii. Some new part of him awoken that day, and once again his heart awoke holding his son.

But that was a long time ago.

His eyes flickered open, wondering absently how the world could be so cruel, to leave him standing when his moon and stars had long since faded away. The sun, it seemed to him, was a cruel spectator of his misery. Cheerily rising despite the depth of sorrow that attempted to swallow Regis everyday. He should have been faster. He should have been there.

The scent of oil and blood still lingered in the air—or perhaps it was simply his memory reliving the moment that all the light had left his world. This spot where he sat every year on this day for the past 15 years was the site where Niflheim's army had dealt the most decisive blow. Where their pet daemon, the marilith, had scorched the cars of the prince’s retinue. Where the marilith had reduced the sleek cars into twisted monsters made of melted steel. It slaughtered without reason and tore the prince nearly in two. Regis wished he had screamed--his beloved son--for then he would have known he was still alive. The silence hung in his memory, marked by the creature's shriek.

He should have been there.

He’d arrived too late, that monster hovering of the tiny body of his son—staring down at his meal with hungry hands that slowly lifted up the blood-soaked child. It had grinned, flashing fangs and crooked teeth. The blood had glittered in the light of the royal armiger. The magic catching those crimson tears as they bled from the sky. His anger had been his son’s demise, those royal arms flying forward to counter the swords that the monster clung to, blocking all of its arms as it slashed and screamed. He attacked the arm holding his son.

He thought he had more room.

He thought … he _thought_ …

But his swords had pushed and the creature had careened off the cliff still clutching the prince and dragging his silent body into the depths of the sea—the ocean that Noctis loved so much. They scoured the waters for weeks, looking desperately for something to rescue, and when days turned into weeks, something to bury.

But nothing had turned up and the gods remained quiet to the king’s mournful prayers for assistance.

_Fifteen years._

“He would have been twenty-three.” He whispered wistfully, reaching up to tug at his face. The present hurt too much to take much comfort in the respite from his memories. He didn’t know who he was speaking to. Clarus leaned against the railing looking out with those regretful eyes.

“He would have been a fine young man, Reggie.”

“… He would… have hated all the formalities.” The king laughed softly, stretching his brace-bound knee. He winced at the twinge, but the pain was always distant. Everything was numb without his son.

Clarus laughed in agreement, glancing up when another car pulled up. His smile was tender as three men piled out.

The prince’s shield and advisor. They remained resolute in their duty, even if the memory of the prince had long since faded, leaving them with half-felt emotions and regrets that pushed them forward. The tall shield’s dark skin was warm under the son. Ignis was lecturing him for not wearing a shirt, playful banter. It made the king wonder if Noctis would have been like that too—enjoying the teasing of his friends. He probably would. He always enjoyed his mischief.

Gladio pulled a cooler from the back of the car, walking over as Cor the immortal strode over with two fold-up chairs on his shoulders. A warm tradition. The cooler was open and beers were pulled out. They all popped the tabs, raising glasses to the dead prince. Ignis settled on the railing, eyes distant as they always were.

Gladio was beginning to talk, telling stories they’d all heard before. No one stopped him. Cor even joined in, eyes facing the ground as he perched on the cooler. Regis enjoyed the warm words, loved hearing others speak about Noctis. The five of them gathered hear every year on this day, talking about the prince and his short life. Of the joy he brought and the promise he had held for a brighter future. Regis could feel the burning behind his eyes, knowing that his resolve was steadily fading as he finally bowed his head. It seemed the tears never did run out.

“-e always caught the smallest fish! It was like a curse!” Cor chuckled, voice loosened by his several beers. No one had any disillusions. This day never got any easier. Time didn’t heal the gaping hole that Noctis had filled. Regis bobbed his head—knew he was supposed to, but his eyes were slipping shut.

He could barely remember Noctis—not in the way he used to know him. His memory had faded, as if the astrals were taking him all over again. The sound of his voice, the patter of his feet, his sweet scent, how he played the piano with jangling keys with clumsy fingers. The little things.

“I miss you, son.” He whispered too quite for the others to hear but the ache was too deep to keep the words to himself any longer. Tomorrow would be another day. He brought his beer to his lips and leaned into the talk, smiling with all the warmth he could muster. 

"I remember when he adopted a cat, called it Cat-tuar?" The group enveloped him with laughter, nodding their heads warmly in recognition of the forgotten tale and so dragged on the night. 

* * *

 

“ _How is he?”_ The voice of the almighty called upon the ocean, rumbling with thunder and shattering the sky into fragments with lightning.

And the ocean responded with the crash of waves and shriek of gulls that circled the shores. Deep within the water, where even the sun couldn’t see, a small bubble glowed, wrapped tightly beside the monstrous Leviathan who’s rumble of voice shook the shores and rocked the boats that sailed upon the lonely surface.

“ _He is alive. He is innocent to the world’s horrors._ ” But the dragon bared its teeth, hissing at the call of something higher than even itself. _“He is mine.”_ The Draconian rumbled its displeasure, heard Shiva’s murmurs of discontent and the growl of the others.

 _“Tide mother, it is time for his return to the star’s land.”_ The goddess hissed, turning depthless eyes to the glowing bubble and warmth that pulsed from within. Through the golden translucent eggshell lay a soft head of long ocean grey hair, tangled with shells and braids that the goddess herself had labored over in the many years of his care. Upon his back, gilded by two large fins, lay the wounds of his attack, twisting the flesh into a puckered mess. Her magic wrapped his lower half in scales as dark and lush as the night sky, shimmering with stars. The fins that decorated his body, arms, tail and ears were cerulean decorated and exaggerated.

He was alive through the tide mother’s magic and power. It was her who found the body of the chosen sinking with the fish and she who wove him in magic and took him away. She who had taught him to swim with the fins she’d gifted him. Taught him to forget the human realm. She who made his teeth sharp for tearing apart and claws for fighting. The chosen had filled a whole in the tide mother’s being and to see him go now was ripping at her. But she was not a mortal being. She looked at the good game encompassing the boy. He’d remained unaging, a perfect pearl in the darkness of the world--but he could only remain hidden so long and the day, it appears had arrived.

She looked to the sky and growled her assent as she took the egg in her mouth and unraveled his body, traveling towards Lucis to return the lost prince.


	2. Bring Him Home

There is a memorial service held once a year for the beloved prince, not at the lonely battle site where his death had occurred, but on the shores of the quay where a small tomb had been erected. It wasn’t tradition nor was it as elaborate as his ancestors, but Regis ensured his son had the tomb he should have had if he’d lived long enough to be a king. He’d watched its construction from the beginning, staring at the carving on the too small coffin of a young prince holding in his arms the engine blade that would have been his years and years later. It didn’t take long for Regis to adjust his will and begin construction of his own tomb next to his son’s.

He couldn’t share his fate, but they would be together once more in the next world.

The king visited it when nobility and soldiers gathered around it, leaving bouquets and children’s toys behind as offerings. Regis gave a small speech, standing at the entrance of the tomb and thanking everyone for attending. They were pleasantries that glided from his tongue. He’d long since learned how to hide his pain from the public. _He could only grieve for so long_ —or so his council said.

They hadn’t lost their children, though.

They would never know how dark the world was or how the years were a punishment when they couldn’t be shared with the life you’d brought into it. The small festival always ended with a banquet on the beach, a large black tent erected and a bounty of seafood shared amongst the guests. Lanterns dotted the ceiling of the tent like forgotten stars, stirring in the oceanic breeze. Several weeks spanned between the day of the attack and the day that the memorial was held annually, but these weeks were doubtlessly the hardest part of each year.

The king found his energy waning as the dinner dragged on and quietly excused himself from the banquet tent, choosing instead to wander out onto one of the piers. He lowered himself to the ground with a sigh, rubbing his knee to try and ease the aches that had cropped up throughout the day. _Noctis fished here_ , he thought to himself as the stars winked at him from the velvety sky. The moon shone like a beacon that night, casting its pale splendor on the morose celebration.

He remembered young Ignis teaching Noctis about the constellations. How the two of them would steel onto the roof at night and sit together gazing at the stars and the moon.

At least in his memories, the stars were beautiful.

The water churned beneath him and he glanced down slightly, seeing a glowing flash move through the waves. _A rare glowing barrel fish?_ He hummed softly to himself in appreciation, following the glow with his eyes as it darted around. Noctis would have been ecstatic at the sight, clapping his hands and begging to go into the water with the fish.

Lost in his memories, he blinked when a weighted net hit the back of his head. In all fairness to the poor hunters who had inadvertently assaulted the king, they didn’t know he was, in fact, the king. They didn’t care either, at least, not at first. One of them shoved the king to the side, collecting the net from where it was tangled on Regis’ reinment. He distantly felt bad for the gentlemen, knowing that soon his retinue would be descending upon them.

 _Speak of Ifirit and he shall appear_ , he felt the thud of footfall down the elderly pier and knew Clarus was storming down the pier—knew that he was probably ready to tear the hunters and the king to pieces (Regis wasn’t supposed to slip away from the banquet without notifying someone first). But that didn’t seem to matter as his silver crown was tugged from his head by the tangle of rope and disappeared into the murky water.

Regis blinked once, staring in shocked silence as the hunters tried to maneuver the net with the rope they still held. It was only when the two young men felt rough hands clamp down on their shoulders that they let out squeaks of fear.

 _Some hunters they were_ , Regis thought in amusement. He cast one last glance at the waters that had swallowed the precious heirloom. It wasn’t like he had someone to pass it down to, anyway.

“Back away from his Majesty.” Clarus’s voice was full of rage, nearly making the poor hunters lose their grip on the net. Their voices were squeaky in panic, but Regis rose to stop his old friend from hurting them.

“I am fine, Clarus. Merely surprised.” He pats his friend’s shoulder, glancing at the net as it began to jerk in the hunter's hands. “I would prefer an explanation as to why I got attacked by your net, though” He offered a warm smile that didn’t seem to relax the jittery young men.

“W-We um…” They glanced at Clarus who looked even larger with his arms crossed over his broad chest. “Th-there is a b-bounty out o-o-on this ocean thing. I-It keeps eating all the fish here. I-I-It o-only comes out a-at night though.” He pointed in the aggravated water where the glowing light seemed to be caught in the net. Regis’s eyes widened in mild surprise before Clarus was stepping forward.

“Perhaps next time, you young men will think before taking action.” He warned, eyes like diamonds catching the silver in the moon’s light. The two jerked their heads weakly, waiting for the royalty to walk away but Regis was curious now. He tilted his head forward, watching the water until the two hunters got the hint and began to pull their burden up.

They struggled at first, nearly falling off the pier, but Clarus’s hands grabbed the rope and stoically pulled it piece by piece from the water.

Regis watched—shocked into silence—as the first cries hit his ears. Like a wave, anguish crashed over him. He knew those sounds. They were the nightmares that haunted him, the sounds that he so desperately wanted to hear on the cold unforgiving day. He felt compelled to step forward as the creature crashed onto the pier. Even with the moon’s radiant light, there wasn’t enough for him to get a good look at the thing that tugged his heart. Even the creature’s light disappeared out of the water and all that was left behind was the wailing that wormed its way into his mind. It made things hazy, made his heart sore.

Distantly some part of him knew that there were daemons that could invade your mind and steal your rational thought—that there were creatures that could resurrect the memory of his sweet dead son and take advantage of his weakness. But logic has no place in the world of the heart and so the king found himself kneeling down on the damp wood.

“Light.” He ordered, his fingers already finding the twisted knots of the ropes and the heavy weights that had undoubtedly trapped this creature. Clarus obeyed. The hunters scrambled to follow, words of warning dying on their lips as the king took in the sight of not a monster, but something out of a fairytale.

A merchild.

Young by the reedy sound of his voice, and the desperate cries that leaked from his mouth. _It was so small_ , but the king couldn’t see its face as it flopped fearfully on its stomach. The harsh lights above him stole the color from the creature's skin, leaving it creamy until it fused with inky scales. At first, they looked dulled and mealy, but as he watched the child thrash, he saw the silver etching that adorned them, like hidden treasures. He saw the long thick fins that wilted in the air, and the deep rich blue and purple undertones that made the creatures tail look like a reflection of the cloudless night sky.

His eyes focused on the two back fins. They were damaged, by the looks of it. Cut up and mangled. But hidden between them were scars. His breath caught as his fingers moved to trace the deep groove that nearly sliced through the thing’s spine. _Had it been in an accident?_

He listened to the cries, heart aching at the child-like pleading. He couldn’t understand the words, however, and he wished so desperately that he could. Maybe then he would be able to help the poor thing. When his finger prodded the wound again, the thing shrieked and the king sat back with a grunt. He didn’t want to hurt the child any more than he needed to.

“So this is the creature that’s been eating all the fish.” He murmured, eyes trailing up to the long dark locks that hid the child’s face. It called out to the ocean as if something would answer it, but the ocean gave no reply, making the creature more desperate. It smacked the pier with its tail, voice switching into many tongues before it said something that froze the king where he stood.

“Mama! Dada!!”

It could speak Lucian, and it was calling for its parents.

Regis rarely considered the creatures that the hunters took out, but now he couldn’t allow these men to take the young thing’s head.

It was a child.

Far too human.

And it was desperately looking for its parents to protect it. Regis shot a look at Clarus, begging him silently with his steely eyes. The shield grunted and kneeled down, straddling the thrashing creature to make sure no one would get hurt by it’s flailing. He shared a look with Regis, knowing immediately what had captured the king. The sobs were desperate, soul-wrenching. _How could a monster speak Lucian?_ It didn’t make sense, but no one was thinking too hard about that right now.

The two elder men were thinking of their children, imagining these screams coming from their own sons and daughter. It was enough to slide ice through their veins.

The hunters were another story. One of the two men withdrew his knife, intending to silence the creature—whose voice he frankly found annoying. He could hear other people approaching and he wanted to get his bounty and get out of here. The knife didn’t even start it’s decent when the king had summoned a blade to counter it.

“No.” He stated simply, hand finding the clawed one of the creature. He gently pet it, wanting the child to know that Regis meant it no harm. Clarus cleared his throat, eyeing the two men meaningfully.

“You won’t be collecting any bounty here tonight.” He grunted, shooing them off before turning to his king. Regis was too soft nowadays but he couldn’t argue with the decision. No parent should outlive their child.

“Can we untangle it?” Regis asked softly and Clarus nodded, maneuvering the netted creature onto his back. He froze as the hair flopped out of his face in little braids and corded shells. Regis leaned over him, and the shield could feel his body stiffen.

No father forgets the face of their own child. Especially if that child hadn’t aged for fifteen years.

No. Staring back at him with those impossibly large blue eyes surrounded by spiderweb lashes of ebony, and shell pink lips that showed razor teeth beneath, was his child. Regis didn’t care about any of that. He couldn’t think because the astrals had returned his son to him.

“Noctis…” He whispered, his hands cupping those round cheeks in his worn palms. “My little star… is that you?” He waited for a response, but he knew that things couldn’t have remained the same in the fifteen years that had passed. He knew that he must look insane when he saw the little boy summon— _actually summon from his armiger_ — a spiky pink shell. He stared at it for a while then he held it out for the king with trembling eyes before he flicked his tongue out.

“D-… da…?” He hesitated, looking unsure as if the memories he possessed were lies. Regis let out a little laugh, shocked and unsure before he was ripping the net away from the child. No daemon could replicate Lucian magic.

Clarus cleared his throat, stopping Regis for a moment before he nodded at the little red horn that poked from Noctis’ forehead. He frowned, not knowing what that meant. Clearly Noctis’ being had been altered. But then his tiny son was holding something else out.

It all fit together with a world-shattering blow. His son was holding out a little carbuncle statuette. That’s why his fins were turquoise and the little horn red. A sign. A sign from the astrals that they had listened. He gathered his son close, not caring about the water that rolled off his scales. His heart started beating again. He felt warmth spread through his limbs and before he knew what he was doing, he felt prayer leave his lips.

“Thank you… astrals above… thank you…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is honestly such a treat to write and I am so glad that y'all liked the first chapter! I hope you guys like this one just as much!!
> 
>  
> 
> If you like it PLEASE leave your thoughts! i love reading them and they make me smile so much! I promise in this story Leviathan isn't a bratty overgrown danger noodle. I wanted to give some of these characters the redemption they deserved! 
> 
> THAT BEING SAID, I made some changes.  
> Iggy and Gladdy are in their 30's.  
> Noctis is still 8.  
> There are NO. SHIPS. 
> 
> Just brotherly love my dudes. (I mean I may ship gladdy and iggy but they are consenting adults)
> 
> BUT YES! I can't wait to hear from yall and to give you guys another chapter!!!
> 
> \- Shinya Argentum -


	3. Advisor to One

Ignis stalked through the halls of the citadel, scattering servants as he went. He was  _not_ happy.

A week had passed since the King’s abrupt departure from the festival without a single word to Ignis or Gladio. For one of the few times in his life, he was helplessly bereft of knowledge—no one would tell him _anything_.

The king had shut himself up in his personal pool room and refused to leave to the point of the council demanding his presence. Whatever the case, Ignis felt that he was being lied to. When pressed, Cor simply said that the king was ill--nothing shocking there, the wall was slowly draining the King's lifeforce--however, he'd perfected the ability to read Cor's usually emotionless face and he knew there was something off.

The pool itself -- more like an indoor hot spring than actually for exercise -- had been constructed five years ago when the king’s chronic pain reached its peak. The warm waters of the pool-like tub had helped to ease the knots in his knee and was always a place Regis went to when the world simply was too much.

 _“Bring a swimsuit, Ignis. I promise you that everything will make sense shortly.”_ Ignis could only hope that was the case as he entered the king’s private elevator. He sighed softly, rubbing the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses. Deep breaths, the young man reminded himself. Nothing can be worse than _that_ day. He looked up as the elevator dinged, blinking when Gladio stepped in, giving him a curt nod.

“Going swimming?” The shield smirked—all shark teeth and mirth as he took in the purple swimsuit slung over his arm. The advisor’s brief moment of relaxation ended, eyes narrowing dangerously.

“His Majesty requested my presence,” Ignis stated back, stepping forward immediately when the elevator came to a halt on the king’s floor. _It used to be Noctis’ floor._ The haunting voice snarled in his ear, but Ignis had fifteen years of practice ignoring the voices in his head. “Are you accompanying me?” He called over his shoulder, seeing the warm visage of Gladio in his peripheral vision.

“Dad’s in his majesty’s office and wanted to talk to me. You got any idea what’s going on with them?” He called, making Ignis stop.

“Not a clue.” He whispered in response, pain buried in his voice.

“Damn. Ever since the memorial service the two of them have been acting like _fuckin_ ’ ten-year-olds.” Ignis hummed his agreement, enjoying the walk with Gladio even if his lips remained firmly downcast.

“I do wish they would include us in whatever it is that plagues them.” Ignis finally commented as the scent of warm herbal water drew closer. It was warm and steamy here and his glasses fogged up just the tiniest bit. “It is challenging offering assistance when one doesn’t know the problem.” Gladio huffed in agreement, stopping in front of a dark door bristling with condensation.

“Well, lemme know if you figure anything out, yah?”

“You have my word.”

* * *

 

Getting Noctis from Gladin to Insomnia had been a journey that Regis prayed he didn’t have to repeat. He’d wrapped his little star in Clarus’s cloak and with Cor and Clarus’ assistance carried him to the Regalia.

Noctis looked pained as he left the ocean, little whimpers escaping his lips as they began to follow the switchback road that leads away from the seaside town. His face was pressed to the window of the car the entire time, craning to catch the ocean’s waves until he couldn’t anymore. His breath caught in his throat and then the tears came. He grabbed onto his father’s hand and began to plead—first in that strange language that Regis couldn’t hope to understand, and then in Lucian.

“Please, we have to go back. Mama is waiting for me! _Please_! Please please, we can’t go. We can’t go!” Even for a child, he was strong, his sleek tail slamming into Regis’ legs as he tried to pry open the door. His little claws tugged lines in the leather upholstery, fins growing brittle in the humid air.

“Star,” Regis murmured, heart aching at the low moans that were escaping his son’s lips. “Noctis, we’re taking you home now. You don’t need to be afraid or alone agai—“

“I wasn’t alone! I was with mama! She’ll be lonely without me!” He screamed back, cheeks turning blotched pink as tears wriggled from his eyes. The king simply wrapped him up tighter, holding him to his chest. His own tears were choking his throat, trying to hold his son still. He couldn’t allow his baby boy to hurt himself by accident with his panicked thrashing.

_How can you ask me to let you go again, Noctis? I’m sorry… I don’t think I can handle that._

“Noctis,” Cor’s voice was barely heard underneath Noctis’s tantrum, screaming and moaning. Banging his head against Regis’s chest like he was seizing. The king didn’t know what to say to his terrified son. His eyes begged his friend’s to help. For turned around from the passenger seat, trying to catch the eyes of sniffling child.

“You lived under water, correct?”

“M-m-mama… mamaaaaa” Noctis moaned, hugging himself as he turned his tiny claws on Regis’s coat jacket. They sliced through like butter, his fingers dragging lines in Regis’s skin. It stung distantly, but his pain could be ignored until later. Right now all he wanted to do was calm down his son.

He began to hum gently, pressing his lips to Noctis’s ear fin and humming a song he used to sing a long ago. His voice was gentle and the song seemed to reach Noctis began his screaming calmed down. His watery eyes looked up at Regis, and his little lips cracked a smile. Regis beamed back, kissing his nose gently.

“Uncle Cor was asking you a question, my little star.” Noctis turned his depthless eyes to stare at his godfather. Cor flashed one of his rare smiles. Noctis cocked his head for a few moments before he connected the dots. He leaned forward in the bundle that was Clarus’s counsel robes, little nose nuzzling against Cor’s hand. The immortal laughed softly, eyes turning glassy in the passing highway lights.

“I was wondering if you could tell me about all the fish you saw?” He asked running his knuckles over Noctis’ cheek. The little prince lit up immediately, rubbing his cheek into the touch as he began to tell him about all of the creature’s he’d seen. As he talked more and more, he grew excited. His eyes were wide as he waved his hands in the air to describe just how big that squid was, or how rude that fish had been. Cor listened patiently, asking him questions whenever he seemed to wane a bit. Regis was grateful. The sound of Noctis crying was like a knife to his heart. He rested his head on the crown of Noctis’ wrinkling his nose at the scratchy feel and salty scent.

“I MET A BIG FAT TUNA TOO! He looked like uncle Clarus!”

“HEY!” Clarus snapped playfully, and for the first time in fifteen years, the car was filled with happy laughter.

* * *

Regis sat in the small pool now, watching as steam lightly curled off the adjoining tub. Noctis was happily soaking in the warmth now, head almost submerged—enough to allow the blue gills on his throat to dance with the water. He was still such a sleepy boy. There were pool toys that floated on the surface along with fluffy towels easily within reach. The room was a touch warmer than Regis liked, but he hardly minded when he saw his little son gladly stretching out on the warming tile. He watched Noctis through the curling steam, smiling at the way his nose twitched in his half-asleep state.

There was much to still figure out, much to decide in the coming days, but the Astrals had returned his sweet star to him. Nothing else could possibly matter more. But the kingdom needed its king. Regis couldn’t stay in the warm bath until help arrived. _He had to leave his son_.

That simple thought was a shock through his heart. He swore he would never leave Noctis again, but he already was breaking his promise. Did Noctis understand that? Did Noctis know that he was loved even when Regis had to leave his side?

He leaned over, gently rubbing Noctis’s head, feeling the soft silky texture of his ear fins. They flopped over, a delicate mint color when they weren’t glowing under the water. Noctis needed more than just him. He always did. He stared at the little beauty mark beneath his lip and the small scar that curved over his nose. It was hard to see, but it was there. It didn’t look bad and part of him smiled imagining all of the mischiefs that Noctis could have gotten into to earn himself such a souvenir.

He looked up when there was the sharp formal rap on the door that he had grown to associate with Ignis. He rose from the water slowly, taking a breath to steel himself. He had to show Ignis—more than he had to tell him. This was… different. He wrapped himself in a black Terry-cloth robe before unlocking the door. He glanced through a crack in the door. When he just saw Ignis he opened it wider and allowed Ignis in. He chuckled as the steam collected on Ignis’s glasses, causing the man to frown in annoyance.

“Your majesty.” He greeted, bowing lightly.

“Ignis, please. No formalities today.” He waved him off, locking the door behind the young advisor. He saw the frown tug down on Ignis’s lips but he flashed him what he hoped was a comforting smile. “I am sorry for doing this in here. It is necessary, however, as you will soon learn.” His cryptic speech did nothing to relax Ignis’s shoulders nor did it invite confidence in what was about to happen, but he dutifully followed his king, towards the steamy tub. “You will likely want to sit down for this.” The king thought aloud, pulling a chair up for Ignis and lightly pressed the man down. The young advisor frowned but didn’t try and rise.

“I thought I was to be joining you in the pool?” He asked with an arched brow, raising his swimming shorts to prove his point. Regis nodded immediately.

“Yes, that is the hope.” He smiled as he sat down next to Ignis carefully, hissing out as he extended his knee. He didn’t wear his brace in the pool and the tightness always returned with the swiftness of lightning to burden his limbs.

“Ignis, do you know why I had to leave the memorial so early?”

“Cor informed me that you had taken ill.” He replied, brows drawn anxiously at the king’s pain.

“Ah.” Regis hummed, looking towards the steamy tub. Ignis followed his gaze, shocked to see another—far smaller—figure already lounging in the water. _Who could Regis have in here that was that small? He had no relatives and none of the citadel staff had children young enough or of high enough rank to be in his majesty’s personal pool. Had he seen wrong_?

“I am quite fine.” Regis’s voice floated over to Ignis who looked up as if shocked by static. “Actually… I’m far better than I’ve been in years.”

“Majesty?”

“He’s _back_ , Ignis.” The room froze. Ignis felt the steamy air too tightly in his lungs. His eyes tunneled down to nearly nothing. Something was ringing distantly because Regis could only be talking about one person. His limbs were numb, but still, they rose as if drawn by strings. The world began to spin, the steam twisting around him like it had a life of its own. Regis was rising too, his gentle face appearing before Ignis, arms grounding the swaying man.

“Please do not startle him. He’s still not used to people. It’s why I waited so long to reunite you two.” He was gentle, coaxing Ignis over to the edge of the pool.

He stared.

How could he not?

There was a mermaid in the pool! _Merboy? Merchild?_ Ignis would add this to his list to research. He stood there, legs stubbornly refusing to bend as the king sat himself down, dangling his feet in the hot tub. He bent over, fingers lightly running over the creature’s head and drawing it up from the bottom of the pool. He couldn't connect the dots, not until the figure raised his face and stared up at Ignis.

“Noctis…” The word tumbled from his lips unbidden, felt his fingers reaching out. It ached when the boy jerked back fearfully, eyes too wide as they looked up at Regis. The king was gentle, holding his hand out to rub against Noctis’ head. He’d learned in the short week how odd his son had become. Almost like a puppy seeking attention, nuzzling into his fingers.

“It’s okay, son. You know this man.” Regis encouraged gently as Ignis rolled his pants up and tugged off his shirt. He fiddled with his belt and shoes as well, finally able to slip into the water in nothing but his trousers. His shorts were forgotten on the chair. His vision has fizzled into nothing but the round face of his beloved prince. Noctis stared at him, screwing up his nose curiously as he began to swim forward. His tiny iridescent claws pressed against Ignis’s thigh as he pulled the man deeper into the water. Ignis let out a shocked gasp, sitting heavily as the tiny prince clambered all over him, sticking his nose close to Ignis as he sniffed heavily. He gagged and that broke the damn on Ignis’s well-built composure.

He laughed, tears springing up too fast to repress them.

“I put on some cologne, too much?”

“Too much.” Noctis agreed with a huff, still not sure who this man was. He frowned, a face cropping up in his fractured memory of life as a human. He bit his lip, nearly slicing the soft plush skin.

“It’s okay that you don’t recall me, Noct.” He murmured, arms moving slowly to hug the prince to him, in case he wanted to run off. “But I can promise I never forgot you.”

“You sound like Iggy! But Iggy doesn’t wear colo? Colog?” Noctis shook his head, frowning when he saw the sad smile on Ignis’s face. It looked so familiar. Like those dreams, he used to have of fire and snakes and flying swords. He rubbed at his eyes, staring at Ignis as he poked at the scars that dotted Ignis’s chest.

“No… I’m sure he didn’t. Unfortunately, not all of us got to stay little like you.” He whispered, pulling Noctis up to sit on his lap. He used his other hand to show off a small skull necklace. “You remember this?” Noctis was quick to grab it, making Ignis jerk a little bit, laughing breathlessly. “Easy please, I’d like to keep my head if at all possible.”

“YOU ARE MY IG!” Noctis shouted as if accusing him, frowning as he grabbed at Ignis’s face, feeling where he needed to shave, and touching the little wrinkles near his eyes. Ignis smiled before he found his fingers tangled in Noctis’s hair.

“My goodness, did you forget what a brush was?” He asked with a frown, looking over at Regis with a little accusation in his voice. “Why have you not cut his hair?”

“He says his ‘mama’ wouldn’t like that. He’s a little skittish around me.” He admitted, and for a moment the advisor was afraid the king was jealous of how touchy Noctis was with Ignis. But Regis was only smiling warm and welcome. He passed Ignis a brush, chuckling. “You’ll need the astral’s blessings to get through the bird's nest his hair has become.” Ignis hummed in reluctant agreement. The air was all knotted together and twisted with kelp, shells, coral, braids cropping up now and then.

“His mama?” He asked, blinking when he saw the king standing again. There was a sigh on his lips, eyes pinned on his son. “Something wrong, Majesty?"

“I can’t stay here forever. I didn’t want to leave him alone but I haven’t left here in several days.” He admitted, eyes lingering on Noctis. “I’ll be a few hours, but I promise to return.” He promised to his fishy son but Noctis was too curious about this new, much larger, Iggy. Regis smiled, relief too evident in his features as he limped towards the door. Noctis would be okay for the time being.

Few people loved Noctis as much as Regis did, but the king could say with shocking certainty that Ignis did.

Noctis still wasn’t convinced of the large human in front of him. He looked a little like Iggy. His hair looked like sea urchins and his eyes were like bobbing lures. They were so pretty. He would have to tell his mama about how pretty they were—his mama loved pretty things.

“You sure you’re Iggy?” He pressed as he felt the rough tug of a brush in his hair. He grunted in annoyance. “That hurts.” He whined but was settled by Ignis’s gentle voice.

“My apologies, but I am quite positive I am Ignis.” Ignis hummed with the hint of laughter in his voice. “But if you have concerns, please feel free to ask me anything.” Noctis hummed at this in response, trying to mimic his old friend and dissolving into the hyper laughter only a child could possess. Ignis felt the ice in his veins begin to melt, his heart softening from the steel he thought could protect him. He slowly took the matted locks, beginning to unbraid them, pulling shells and stars and ancient treasures out of his woven hair. He set them to the side, careful with his gentle brushing of the hair.

“What’s the name of your teddy bear?” Noctis asked suddenly, but Ignis was ready, smiling even though his prince couldn’t see him.

“I never had a teddy. I did have a plush Tonberry. I believe I called him Master Chef.” Noctis bounced his head eagerly, grinning enough for Ignis to really see his shark teeth as he craned his head back.

“Whats my least favorite food??” He asked, squirming around but held still by Ignis’s firm hand.

“Please don’t move too quickly, Noct. I’d hate to hurt your head.” He warned, hoping that would calm down the eager boy, but it seemed like nothing would as he wiggled happily. The advisor let out another adoring sigh, gently picking apart a particularly large clump of hair.

“The answer is carrots. You loathed the poor vegetables.”

“They aren’t poor! They taste icky!”

“Perhaps that is why you’re still so small.” Ignis teased, receiving a playful splash from his prince in return.

“NUH UH! Mama said I had to stay small! She said I looked the best all tiny and in my egg!” Ignis took that in and nodded along, although he really didn’t know what to think of Noctis’s life these past fifteen years. Noctis was growing quiet, but for some reason, that grated on Ignis’s nerves.

He felt like he’d lived in fifteen years of silence and emptiness. He wouldn’t take it anymore. Not if he could help it.

“My turn.” Ignis’ voice was a low purr. Loving and quiet. “What did we do on your seventh birthday?”

“OH! OH! I KNOW THIS ONE!” Noctis splashed about, giggling as he turned onto his tummy, hugging Ignis’s soaking wet shirt. He stared up at Ignis with all the love possible in his wide ocean-bright eyes. “We went to the Chocobo/Moogle Festival! Daddy dressed up as a Chocobo! And you helped me win a goldfish!” He squealed, letting go of Ignis just long enough to swim in a happy circle before resting against Ignis again. He panted softly, ducking under the water enough that his gills could flare. Ignis had seen enough cadets to know that Noctis was in pain.

“Is something wrong?” He paused, what an idiotic question, of course, something was wrong. Noctis had managed to tire himself out with a single lap of the tiny pool. He saw a flash of the gruesome scar that had nearly taken his life so long ago. It was raised, knotted and gnarly. Not even the Astrals could hide the pain he’d been through. "Does it hurt?” He asked finally, fingers lightly parting the two fins to stare at it closer. It looked raw like it never finished healing. He wanted to soothe that pain—what to forget that that entire day had happened.

Noctis glanced over his shoulder, his hair flopping over his face and his little horn glowing lightly in the steam filled room. His ears were more fin than an ear, but by the looks of it, they’d been pierced. What a silly thing to notice, but Ignis found he wanted to drink in every detail of Noctis. He wanted to know everything—wanted to know every single damn detail—whatever it took to make sure that Noctis could be safe and happy.

“Sometimes.” He admitted, jerking his tail lightly as if pulling it with puppet strings. Even with his delicate looks and sleek body, it appeared he still didn’t have fine motor control.

_Can he write? Will he need assistance swimming? Does it hurt constantly? Have the doctors examined him?_

Ignis’s thoughts were whirling around fast enough to make him dizzy, it was only the little musical voice that brought him back from the panic that threatened to overwhelm him.

“Mama gave me magic to help move my tail though!”

“This mama of yours,” He breathed out lightly. "what's her name?”

“Mama?”

“Yes her.” Ignis laughed a little, petting Noctis’s head as he used the brush to attack another knot.

“No, silly! Her name is mama!” Noctis poked Ignis’s sharp nose with a giggle, flashing his shiny little teeth.

_Do those hurt? Does he cut his tongue? Can he still eat vegetables? Does he have a new diet?_

“You got a lot dumber, Iggy!” The advisor sighed, simply gathering the child close to him again. Perhaps the little one was right. He would relearn it all though. He’d make himself the perfect advisor—perfect guardian—for Noctis. He would be whatever he needed, so long as he never needed to suffer separation again.

“My apologies, highness.” Guess answers will have to wait, but for the moment he relished the title he could bestow upon the tiny child in his arms. 

Ignis didn’t know how long he spent in the hot tub, trying to attack those knots before eventually giving up. He would need to get shampoo and conditioner. He knew that oils from skin could harm fish scales, so perhaps he would need to invest in special toiletries.

Noctis hummed happily. More than before, he seemed to love to sing. He told Ignis excitedly about the giant creatures that thrived on the ocean floor. He stretched his arms, happily showing how large the whales were. He could have sat there for days without moving. Just feeling the living thrum beneath his fingers was enough to make him smile. Noctis was not only alive, but he was happy.

That was more than enough for Ignis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TA DA~ I have really been taking my time with these chapters. I wanna make something that y'all enjoy and believe it or not, Fluff is actually super hard for me to write!  
> I DO WANT TO CLEAR SOME STUFFS UP:
> 
> This story is not entirely canon compliant.  
> Ignis and Gladio are in their 30's.  
> Regis is (clearly) not dead. He is still holding up the wall, but there was no deal with the niffs and therefore no regicide! There is a war between Lucis and Niflhiem--however, Lucis has an ally in the neighboring kingdom of Galahd! The niffs are currently winning the war, but Lucis and Galahd are allied against evil dudes. The prince of Galahd is Prince Nyx--WHO IS MARRIED TO ONE LUNAFREYA NOX FLEURET. The two of them have been married for eight years and have an eight year old son named.... PROMPTO! (Tada!)  
> Ardyn is still lurking around--he went on a rampage when he thought Noctis had died, but with Noctis's return, he is going to try and finally fulfill the prophecy.  
> I dont want to spoil too much, just be aware that this world is SLIGHTLY different than canon and I am living my best life. (basically I constructed this all so that Noctis would have a friend his own age SUE ME.)  
> \-- 
> 
> BUT YES!  
> YOUR COMMENTS ARE SO AMAZING! If anyone wants to try and draw baby noctis please do! I would love to see that!  
> Comment/Kudo/reviews are all welcome! I hope you guys enjoyed this reunion as much as I did writing it! 
> 
> Huge thanks to Pixiemama for helping me figure out one Iggy.


	4. A weak Shield Protects Naught

“You've gotta be kidding me.” Gladio’s gruff voice startled the guards who stood vigil outside of the King’s office. “He’s gone insane, and _you’ve_ let him!”

“Son, listen to me. I didn’t want to believe it either—“

“No. I'm not succumbing to your delusion! He _died_. We’ve mourned him for _fifteen_ years!”

“Trust me, Gladio. I didn’t want to believe it either, but it’s true. I saw him with my own eyes.” Hands were clasping his shoulders, but he’d lived through this nightmare too many times to be enraptured by pretty words again. It was a bad dream and nothing more.

“You’re going senile.” He shook his father’s hands off him, turning on his heel and slamming open the door, startling the two young crowns guard soldiers who immediately went stock still in front of their captain. Gladio barely paid them any heed, hearing his father call his name from behind him.

No. He had to go.

Hope was a dangerous thing—it could be misdirected far too easily and in Gladio’s personal experience led to nothing but heartache. His prince was dead. He visited his grave every other month. He grieved at his memorial site. He wouldn’t hope again. He wouldn’t let himself be led through that misery once more.

His body was on autopilot, storming through the palace hallways as fast as he could with no real destination in mind. He just had to get away from that moronic man. He grunted irritably, scattering servants and staff who were unfortunate enough to pass in front of him. They stared at his taut shoulders and furrowed brow—he radiated rage and confusion, like a maelstrom of emotions.

“Damnit… he’s just seeing what he wants to see.” Gladio growled, slamming his fist on a side table and knocking off a little vase of flowers. He winced at the crack of glass against the tile, gazing at the puddle and the helpless flowers that were strewn amongst the shards of glass. His heart ached lightly, thinking of his mother as he stared at the blossoms. “The dead don’t return. He’s _gone_.” His voice was raw, lightly choked as he plucked the flowers up one by one and laid them on the table. Part of him felt guilty for the mess he’d caused, but the larger part didn’t care. Spinning one flower in his hand, he proceeded forward, feeling his anger dulled into a manageable ball.

Without realizing it, he’d fallen into a familiar path—one he’d worn when he was still a shield. The name was a knife to his heart because he would never be a shield. He’d failed his life’s purpose and no matter what he did now, he’d never make it up to his prince. He was supposed to be there with him. He was supposed to protect him! He was 17 when the attack happened— _hell_ , he should have died protecting Noctis. That would have been preferable to living without his charge. He heard the whispers, knowing that people mocked him behind his back. He was a shield without a prince. How could he carry on the Amicitia name when he couldn’t even follow their most basic rule. His throat was closing up and with a sudden stop, he was facing the smooth black door. He stared at it, reaching up to touch the little silver fish and below it the name _Noctis Lucis Caelum_. His fingers were gentle as they lightly caressed the engraving.

There was a time when then that name was more than just a memory.

“Heh… every path leads back to you, kid.” He whispered softly, resting his forehead on the wood for a second. “I wish you were here…”

“Gladiolus?” He jerked back, eyes wide as he stared at the king himself, hair still wet and wearing the base of his royal suit. He had his golden brace on and limped forward, leaning on his cane. He seemed shocked to see the glaive in front of his son’s door. It was a shock. No one entered this part of the citadel. No one entered Noctis’ room. Then again, _he_ was here, so who was he to talk.

“Your Majesty.” He rumbled, fist over his heart as he tipped in a light bow, recalling the delusion his father had fallen under—the delusion headed by the king. His eyes narrowed, staring at the king as if he could attack the disordered thought. He looked far too happy. He didn’t look like the King Gladio had served for the past fifteen years. He ducked his head again, trying to control his anger as he took in slow deep breaths. He couldn’t let his anger get the better of him—not now that he was a grown man.

“Your majesty, he is getting a little heavy…” Gladio’s eyes shot up. He’d been so focused on the king that he’d failed to even see the young advisor. The young man was damp, his shirt clinging to the ropes of muscle beneath his skin. Even so, his arms were straining as he carried a dark bundle, wrapped in royal Lucian black towels. He frowned as Regis nodded, now ignoring Gladio as he limped forward and opened the door with the silver key he kept on his person.

The door pushed open with a familiar creak. It stirred those old memories he tried to keep repressed. He remembered the prince sneaking out, face cream in the moonlight as he smiled. He tugged on Gladio’s hand, enticing him into his antics. The man shook his head, blinking as Ignis rushed by, glancing back at Gladiolus before smiling. Regis stopped In the doorway as Ignis rested his load on the bed, turning to face Gladio who was dumbstruck.

“Clarus told you, did he not?” Regis asked, smiling up at him with that warm expression that split his face into wrinkles worn earned from times of joy. They crinkled in the corner of his eyes

“A-About what?” The king looked down the empty hall, but still, there was something paranoid in his body making him jittery.

“ _His_ return?”

“Oh.” Gladio froze, glancing over at the advisor. Ignis met his eyes for a brief second before he looked back down at his bundle. Had he been drawn into this delusion as well? Not shocking really. Few people had grieved as much as Ignis had, and even when all was said and done, he’d never truly returned to normal. Ignis had gone to the front lines with the king’s magic at his disposal. He’d killed many people and only after years of bloodlust did he return with needle-sharp eyes and a permanent frown that mirrored the marshals. Even now, Gladio still didn’t quite know how to read the man’s expression.

Regis gestured him in, and the glaive nodded reluctantly. He stepped into the pristine room, seeing the layer of dust that coated everything. No one had been in this room in years and now it was being disturbed by these morons. Gladio’s gaze floated around the room, seeing the beautiful books that lined the wall—books that he used to own. He’d been in here, teaching the young prince to read alongside Ignis. Back then… they were a trio. They were together always and completely devoted to one another. Now they were fractured people.

He slowly approached Ignis, thinking that maybe he’d be able to get Ignis to see reason. The man was shucking blankets off the thing, and when he was a few feet away, he caught sight of the child for the first time.

 _No_.

His breath left him, his body carried him, he was moving without thinking—which seemed to be the theme of the day—till he was standing over the bed and staring down at this… thing. His mind went blank. It had Noctis’s face. It was the prince’s face staring up at him and whining as Ignis tried to unbundle him from the blanket burrito. He whined, arms flailing to reveal fins and claws. It was a daemon. It had to be a daemon. Then it _spoke_.

“Iggy! Stop!! Lemme go! I wanna go back in the water!” It was his voice. His high-pitched musical voice. It bounced around his head like there was nothing in his mind but those words. Gladio’s eyes flowed down the prince, seeing the fins and scales. Seeing the sharp teeth. A daemon. His breathing was picking up, panic setting in.

This was another nightmare. _Noctis was dead. He was gone. He wasn’t going to be tormented anymore by these damn monsters._ He didn’t realize there was a dagger in his hand or that he was holding it over the little monster when those powerful blue eyes fell on Gladio. They stared at him, darting between the dagger and Gladio’s face when he reached up, staring at his features as if piecing together a puzzle. He bit his lip, tugging on it for a moment before his claws touched Gladio’s scarred face. The glaive melted, staring into those eyes. _This is a nightmare._

Hands were tugging him away. Someone was screaming at him distantly—voice hollow sounding in the dusty room. Ignis was in front of him, pulling the dagger from his hand, the king a dark blur behind him as he protected the daemon.

“It’s a daemon…” He croaked, shaking his head weakly. “It’s a daemon… you’re wrong…” He trembled, fingers looking for a weapon. He was supposed to protect them. They were getting in the way! He couldn’t hear the words that Ignis was clearly shouting, couldn’t hear anything beyond the rush of blood in his ears.

That is, until a shell smacked him in the face.

He blinked in the quiet that fell over the room, looking over as the daemon summoned a shell from out of space. He pulled back his hand and it flung it at Gladio again, the fiercest expression adorning the young prince’s face as he glared at Gladio.

“Stop shouting! You’re hurting my ears.” He shouted, sounding pouty and spoiled—the voice that he knew. Regis stared at Gladio, then chuckled loosely, his arm still wrapped around his small son.

“Gladio, have you returned to us?” Regis asked gently, not moving from Noct’s side. Ignis had summoned his dagger somewhere in the confusion glaring at Gladio like he was a monster. Maybe he was. Because, he realized with sickening clarity, he’d almost killed his prince.

He stumbled forward, knocking into Ignis as he kneeled down.

“N…Noct-“ Another shell smacked his face—but there it was. The crackle of magic, the scent of the ozone and the warmth of the crystal that resided in the Lucian royals. He deserved it. His hands reached out, able to capture the prince. He was so small now. He’d been small back then, but now, he was like a mouse. Gladio stared at the tiny hands, then was tugging Noctis close. There was a weak struggle from the child, him whining and squirming, but Gladio didn’t let go. This was impossible. “…Noctis…”

“Stoppp!” He whined, batting at Gladio’s hair and hissing at him like a feral animal. Ignis and Regis convened besides him, pulling him away from Gladio’s arms to comfort him and wrap a soft blanket around his shoulders. The glaive pulled back, kneeling in front of him, still clinging to his hands.

“Noctis, do you remember me? It’s been a while but—“

“You were gonna hurt me!” He deserved that as well.

“I'm sorry… I’m so sorry, kid. I didn’t recognize you…” He wanted to beg. He wanted to plead and pull Noctis close and kiss his head and promise him that nothing bad would ever happen again. “I was wrong. Kid, I don’t say that often.” The prince looked hesitantly over Gladio, then up at his father.

“You remember, every Lucian king gets a shield. You remember that from your studies right?”

“Mhmm.” Noctis hummed, already bored with this conversation as he began to pick at the fluffy blanket.

“Son, this is Gladiolus.” That caught the boy’s attention, his eyes looking up with wide disbelief. If Gladio could save the prince’s expression he would. It hurt him as the prince let out a pathetic whimper, eyes watering as he pawed at them desperately.

“N-no…”

“Kid…”

“Gladdy?” He whimpered, and nothing could have stopped the shield from gathering Noctis in his arms and holding him. He breathed in the salty scent of his hair, pressing his head to his heart as tears dampened his uniform.

“I'm here…” he whispered, trying to hide the hitch in his voice as he dragged heavy fingers through the knotted hair. “Noctis, I'm here.” He promised, bowing his head with miserable finality. This wasn’t a dream.

“I-I w-w-was s-scared..” He hiccuped, his body bouncing with each sob as they tore themselves from Noctis’s tiny body. The glaive was strong, but he certainly wasn’t strong enough to hear what came next. “I… I k-kept c-calling y-y-your name…” He whimpered, nails tugging on Gladio’s skin. But it wasn’t worse than his words. _He called for him, out of everyone, and he wasn’t there._ He felt tears drop into Noctis’ hair as he let out a shuddering breath.

That day, Noctis had called for him, and he had been sulking in the citadel. _“A weak Shield Protects naught.”_ Those words had haunted him every day for the last fifteen years of his life. He wasn’t a shield. He wasn’t anything. He had been worthless. _Useless_. _Pathetic_. That fight had been over a decade ago, but he never forgot—how could he? But for Noctis… had it been recent? Was time the same in the dimension of the astrals? He clearly hadn’t aged so perhaps for him that fight had been mere days ago. “I-I…” How did he respond? Noctis had thought he was dying—lying in a pool of his own blood—and Gladio wasn’t there.

“He fought so hard Noctis,” Ignis whispered suddenly, hand falling on top of Gladio’s, squeezing the fingers for a brief moment. “But the Marilith… even your father couldn’t defeat it.”

“H-he was there?” The hope in his voice cut into Gladio. He was lying to the prince. Why were they lying? No. The truth wouldn’t help anyone, Gladio realized instantly. It wouldn’t change what happened, but perhaps it could give the prince some comfort in the present.

“Yes.” Regis murmured, gentle with his comfort. “He was there, he looked for you for a long time.”

“Y-you won’t let the snake get me again?” He asked, voice trembling and to this Gladio could answer.

“No. Never again.” He snarled, squeezing the prince tightly. He was so tiny and slight within Gladio’s arms, like a precious gem. He felt the prince nodding, his tiny arms circling Gladio and hugging him back. “Never…” He whispered, voice disappearing in tears as he bowed his head and cried. Not silently. Not subtlely. His body was shaking against the prince because he had a second chance. He had a second chance to protect his prince, to make Noctis happy. His body heaved with the weight of his agony, but no one said anything.

No one made a peep as the glaive earned his title of shield once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo!! This chapter SUCKED to write. I honestly could not get into a good rythm and im still not altogether pleased with how it turned out, but I wrote the next chapter and i am excited by that!!!   
> Honestly y'all I love the comment! Keep 'Em Coming! 
> 
> I promise next chapter will be much fluffier!!!!   
> I am really excited to explain more of this world and specifically Nyx and Luna's family <3   
> As always! Kudos/comments are welcome!!!
> 
> \- Shinya Argentum -


	5. Magic Does not Make a (wo)man

Lady Lunafreya stood in the throne room, humming a tune absently as she looked around at the empty room and yawning ceiling. She’d been in this room several times, never on pleasant occasions. It wasn’t usually this quiet though, no councilmen or women whispering in their seats, the king absent from his throne. It all seemed a little off.

It had been a week since the near desperate call from Regis begging her to come to Insomnia. With the war at its height, travel was difficult for the chosen oracle, but she had made her way to the crown city regardless. It was a little strange, looking around, seeing that there were no guards in the room despite the presence of foreign royalty. Not that Nyx or Luna _needed_ protection, they had both fought on the front lines of the war with Niflhiem before the birth of their young son. Still, Nyx pointed out that with Regis’s declining health, it was vital for him to stay healthy for the sake of Lucis and their alliance. As time passed, he had become an easier target for Niflhiem assassins. He should take better care of himself. 

She was distracted from her thoughts by her son who was dancing just as absently at her feet. She laughed softly when she saw even her husband lightly swaying. He looked over, lips quirking up as he rested his arm around her waist, tugging her closer playfully. She stuck her tongue out in return, pushing on his chest gently.

“Nyx~” She warned, kissing his jaw lightly as he leaned close to her. “Come now; his Majesty will be here any moment now.”

“For shame. He, a grown man, has never seen a married couple kissing before.” Nyx bemoaned, dramatically swooning to the side, nearly taking luna with him. He dipped her lightly, grinning sweetly as Luna felt herself shake with laughter.

“It’s not polite, Nyx.” She insisted, rolling her eyes as Prompto pretend to swoon as well, but with no one to catch him he fell on his bum. “And now your son is acting like a fool too.” She poked Nyx’s nose, making the prince pout as she straightened herself to check on her baby boy.

“Isn’t he _our_ son?”

“Not when he’s misbehaving.” Luna reminded him. She dusted off the little prince, smiling at his cherry pink cheeks. Her heart melted with love, straightening his little white suit. It wasn’t as formal as Nyx’s or hers, but with the little green caplet, and the cream-colored suit, he was a perfect blend of his parents. She pecked his cheek, laughing breathlessly as Prompto grabbed her hands.

“Dance, mommy!” He insisted, looking up at Nyx who raised his brows before he began to hum out a tune for them. The nation of Galahd was known for their music—specifically the magic the royals could infuse with it. The prince was grinning playfully as he clapped his hands now, watching as Prompto began to bounce and “dance” with his mom. She tried once to stop her son and husbands, but then the two of them flashed their puppy dog eyes, and she continued the silly little dance.

The door was tossed open, startling the happy family. Luna pulled away, patting her gown free of wrinkles as she caught her breath and tried to return her breath to normal. Her concern disappeared as she saw Regis and his retinue.

The king limped forward a few steps, almost forgetting why he had called so suddenly for his friend’s arrival. His world had brightened so dramatically in the past few days—it was hard to contain his joy. He smiled and held out his hand to stop them from approaching, eyes glancing back to see Clarus who was closing the door behind them, allowing Ignis and Gladio to step through, with Cor in the middle of the trio, guiding in a simple wheelchair. The king however, was effectively blocking them from seeing the occupant of the chair.

“My apologies, old friends.” Regis smiled, approaching them slowly, eyes darting back to his retinue as his cane clicked on the tile flooring. Nyx stepped forward first, hand extended to shake Regis’s, the Galahdian prince wearing a suit of forest green with golden accessories. It was an interesting outfit to say the least, complete with a fur cape over one shoulder. There were Kukuri sheathed—mostly hidden by the cape— on his hip. Proof of the danger that lurked beneath the warm eyes and eager smile.

“You look like a behemoth got in an accident with a pine tree” Gladio snorted, leaning forward to take in the foreign prince. He let out a low whistle, making Nyx flash him a raised brow.

“Wanna spar again, Amicitia? Because if I recall, last time we sparred you lost your right to insult my impeccable fashion.” He stepped forward, his branching crown shining in the light bleeding from the windows. “I’m always up for another round.” Gladio scoffed, ready to shoot back another insult when Clarus grabbed his son’s shoulder, a firm squeeze.

“Gladio,” Clarus grunted, effectively shutting his son up. Regis shook his head with a warm laugh.

“Why don’t we go and sit in my office, hm? We have much to discuss and I’m afraid my old bones can’t handle standing for long.” He admitted, intentionally raising his voice in almost a parody of an old man. The couple frowned, exchanging looks when they heard, to their utter shock, the sound of a child laughing. They both looked down at Prompto, who stared up at them with large unblinking eyes at their feet. He cocked his head, a little trill of confusion fluttering from his lips, fluffy curls flopping to the side.

Gladio smirked at Nyx’s confusion, turning to kneel next to the wheelchair. He spoke to the occupant in a low rumbling voice before Cor, Ignis and Gladio took the chair and wheeled it out of the room.

Nyx did not like being curious. As a prince, there wasn’t much he had to be curious about—usually asking a question solved the problem. But in this case the king of Lucis was playing games and he knew far too well that asking now would not give him the answers he wanted. So, with a heavy sigh, he rubbed his head.

“It’s been a long journey. I wouldn’t mind a cup of ebony.”

“Tea sounds lovely.” Luna agreed, looping hands through Nyx’s arm.

“Can I have milk?” Prompto asked, tugging on Nyx’s cape gently. He had been a relatively good boy in front of the intimidating audience. He was a twitchy boy, constantly moving. But he’d stayed quiet, and Nyx glowed with pride, lightly tousling his son’s hair. He looked up at Regis who laughed easily, smiling at the young boy.

“Of course, young Prompto.” He beckoned them forward, leading them out of the throne room and down the short hall to his office. Nyx noticed again that there were no guards, no staff.

“Is it some holiday?” Nyx asked, lifting up Prompto when the boy got distracted by the rolling views from the window outside the office. He frowned, stepping into the office and seeing Gladio and Cor. Gladio was carrying a tray of food as they entered, looking almost like a barista with the little apron tossed over his head. “Everyone on a coffee break?”

“We decided to spare them seeing your ugly mug,” Gladio smirked, tossing a grin over his shoulder. Nyx rolled his eyes playfully, grinning at one of his oldest friends. When Nyx became an ally of the kingdom, Gladio is the one who trained him on how to use the king’s magic. Nyx had an innate ability to harness magic, and he soon matched Gladio pace for pace. To this day, there was no one better at warping than Nyx.

“I’m sorry, was I addressing you?” Nyx stuck his nose in the air, making Gladio grin as if he were stalking his prey. "Are you the king now?”

“Nah. But I’m the shield to one.” He grinned, stepping forward to lay the tray of food in front of a child. Luna and Nyx froze, eyes dragging over the mist-blue hair and the sapphire eyes.

He was sitting on the couch next to Ignis, the aid still diligently attacking the tangles and knots. He stood up when the royal family had entered, bowing slightly in lieu of a greeting before returning to Noctis’s care. The prince looked up, nervous and fidgety as Luna stepped beyond her husband, taking the few remaining strides to kneel in front of the prince. “Prince Noctis.” She breathed, letting out a little laugh.

“I knew you weren’t dead.” She gently reached out, caressing his cheek gently when she saw the fins. She took it in, then smiled. “I see the tide mother lent you her strength in your time of need.”

“ _She didn’t even blink-!_ ” Gladio hissed, followed by a loud smack that almost made Luna laugh.

“He… he's a _fish_ …?” There was another smack and this time luna _did_ laugh as Nyx swore in Galahdian. There was a quite scuffle, then two smacks. Luna looked back, smirking as Cor crossed his arms behind the two sulking men.

“Nyx, not in front of children, please.” She laughed as she heard him whine in response. He honestly was such a child sometimes.

“You mean mama?” Noctis chirped out, eager for attention by this pretty woman dressed in white. She considered his words for a moment, realizing that he wasn’t talking about Aulea.

“Wait… ‘Mama’ is _Leviathan_?” Ignis breathed, eyes wide and shocked. He looked down at his little charge, then over at Luna who simply bobbed her head.

“Is your Mama a large dragon?” Luna asked, gently taking his hands and looking at the pretty little nails. They were iridescent like shells, beautiful and small. Noctis was quick to nod his head, smiling eagerly as his tail wiggled underneath the blanket that hid his lower body.

“Mhmm! Mama is so big! Sometimes I got lost so mama would tie some seaweed around my tummy and keep me close!” Luna did laugh at that, smiling at him as she nodded gently.

“I am glad to hear that she was so kind to you. I’m going to talk to your father for a little bit, but I would love to hear more about your mother later.” Noctis bobbed his head sweetly, flashing his shark teeth before relaxing back against Ignis. Luna patted his hand gently before rising up, going to sit down next to Nyx who was gawking at Noctis like he was a circus sideshow. Ignis was shooting him nasty glares, eyes like needles as he pulled Noctis closer. They’d managed to get him in a shirt and cape to hide most of his fins but even so, his ears and teeth were impossible to hide. He was gnawing on a piece of meat that Gladio had brought to him on the meal tray. He gnawed on it happily with his teeth and claws instead of the cutlery.

“I now understand your need for secrecy.” She conceded, to the king who had taken a seat on the other side of Noctis. The king smiled gently, one arm around his son, lavishing his son with affection—even more so than before. It was a little odd for Clarus and Cor to see him so tactile in his affection, but no one could blame him—much less _say_ something.

“Yes. Unfortunately with his… condition, I was reluctant to expose him to court life. I can’t very well reintroduce him to the kingdom like this…”

“It wouldn’t have gone well.” Nyx grunted in agreement, shifting as his little son leaned forward to stare at the prince across from him. Nyx stared as well—honestly it was pretty hard not to. The foreign prince waved at Noctis lightly, venturing a smile. But what he received in return was the prince’s tongue stuck out stubbornly. Nyx screwed up his face in a pout before he stuck his tongue out in return. He had his tongue stuck out when he caught Luna’s expression. She stared at him, mouth parted mid-speech.

“I..” She cleared her throat, trying to take control of the conversation again. "I can tell that powerful magic has bound Noctis to this form.” Luna hummed, leaning back, hands in her lap as she stared distantly. “But it is not permanent. The Astrals would not have imposed such a burden upon their chosen king.” Regis let his breath out, smiling hopefully.

“Don’t get me wrong, I do not care about his appearance at all. I just know the world is not kind to those who are different.” Regis was quick to assert, looking down at his son who was cuddling into his suit. He was rubbing his nose into the fabric, breathing in the oaky scent. Love was overflowing from the king. He gently pet his hair, trying to keep his composure around the guests.

“Well, I am sure I can offer _some_ assistance, however…” She bit her lip, hating the question that bubbled on her lips. “He was _injured_ in the attack, was he not?”

“Quite egregiously.” Ignis asserted, much to Regis’s surprise. Ignis lightly adjusted his glasses, trying to delay his nervous tic. “I noticed in the bath that Noctis is unable to properly swim, most likely why Leviathan kept him close to her. He does not retain full motor function.”

“I can function!” Noctis huffed in irritation, crossing his arms in a stubborn pout that tugged at their memories of a prince from a long time ago. He was still the same. He hadn’t changed—not where it counted—but they all had grown. Luna remembered a time when she was destined to marry Noctis. And now she was a grown woman and Noctis was still practically a baby.

“Of course you can, starfish.” Regis hummed with a voice full of comfort. The new information wasn’t much of a surprise. He’d noticed it himself. If Leviathan’s magic was keeping him in this form, it was likely allowing him a greater range of motion that he could have had. He turned to Luna now, gazing at her for a long time before he voiced his thoughts. “You believe that reversing her magic could harm him?”

“I… I am not sure.” She started lightly, looking over at Prompto who’s bright smile made her relax just slightly. She now could understand Regis’s actions all these years. She had a son, and she would do anything for him—at the same time, she was also a princess and the chosen Oracle. The days on which those two responsibilities were balanced equally were few and far between. “I believe that he may suffer from delayed symptoms. I have not seen the injury myself, nor am I so arrogant to assume that my humble magic could reverse Leviathan’s completely. But, I should be able to give him legs. At least while on land.” She nodded to herself, trying to keep confidence in her voice. She’d never met someone—apart from herself and her mother—who had talked with the Astrals.

The Lucian kings were a unique group, but even then they communed with their ancestors and the crystal. Noctis, however, had been touched by the Astrals. He’d been shaped by their magic, and he was too young and naive to realize the implications that had on him.

Luna recalled the empire storming into their mansion and seizing her younger brother, Ravus. She remembered them dragging him off, trying to discover the secret to the Oracle’s bloodline. The memories were dark and tainted by blood. They had rescued him years later, with the Lucian’s help, but Ravus was different. Changed.

Now that same light—and certainly more—resided in the young prince before her.

Niflhiem could never know.

And try as they might, his return would not go unnoticed. Not with how the king, she suspected, was acting. He truly was terrible at hiding secrets, especially when they involved his son. He was far too dutiful a father to do that.

“What will you tell your kingdom? The council?” She asked him, eyes turning to steel. She would protect Noctis too, in whatever way she could.

“That the Gods protected Noctis from harm until he was ready to return. The blood work will be released to the public. There is no doubt in my mind nor heart that this is my son.” He asserted, smiling at Noctis until a bright flash went off. Noctis’s ear fins flapped wetly in the sudden bright light, blinking it out of his eyes. Regis stared at the culprit, young Prompto gazing into his camera with one of his dazzling smiles that made him quite difficult to be angry at. However, Cor was not swayed by the child’s hypnotic gaze and easily plucked the camera from his squishy hands.

“Hey!” Prompto whined, reaching for his precious belonging, but Cor didn’t flinch. He deftly deleted the photo before handing it back to Prompto. “Why'd you do that?” He whined, swinging his legs with a frustrated huff.

“Prompto.” Nyx was quick to scold, gaze heavy on his son. “You always ask permission before taking photos of someone else. You know this.”

“But dad, he’s so pretty…” the boy whined, trying to grab his camera before it was tucked away within Nyx’s jacket.

“Maybe later, after your uncle Regis gives his approval,” Nyx stated, his voice leaving little room for discussion, so Prompto returned to slumping over with a frustrated mutter. Noctis had his eyes fully pinned on Prompto now, cocking his head to the side with a playful trill. Prompto looked up, but Luna was moving over to sit in front of the prince again.

“Prince Noctis, can you tell me a little bit more about your mama?” She coaxed lightly, smiling when he nibbled his lip. Her mind was elsewhere, she just didn’t want Noctis to panic as she examined the magic. Luna took his hands, closing her eyes as magic was channeled through her. She could feel the injury in his back and the sheath of magic that protected it. His spine had been severed. Her eyes flew open, breath caught in his throat.

“-lived in an egg! Mama kept me there for a long time because it was all safe and warm! It was shiny and gold! I loved my egg!” Luna nodded absently, looking up at Regis morosely.

“Your majesty, may I speak with you privately for a moment?” She asked softly. He frowned but was quick to nod, standing up and taking her hand as the two of them walked over to a corner. Nyx watched his wife curiously, not noticing until it was too late that Prompto had slipped from his lap and waddled over to Noctis, grinning at him.

“Heya! I’m Prompto! Nice to meetcha!” He stuck his hand out happily, grinning at him wildly. Noctis stared at him, then let out a hyper laugh, sticking his hand out as well and grabbing Prompto’s.

“‘M Noctis! That’s my daddy!” He pointed over at the aged king, clearly proud of the king. Ignis covered his mouth to hide a chuckle when one of those clawed fingers pointed at him. “And this is my Ig!” He felt heat rush into his cheeks, and even his hand couldn’t hide the blush creeping up his ears. “And that’s my shield!” He pointed finally at Gladio who bristled with pride at his title, waving at the young prince.

“Hello Shield! Hello Ig!” Prompto happily grabbed the advisor’s gloved hand, shaking it eagerly. His freckles practically sparkled on his olive skin. His eyes were lavender—like delicate little blossoms— and his pale hair curled up like Chocobo feathers. He was a lovely little prince, the sun to Noctis’ moon.

“Hello there, Prince Prompto,” Ignis replied gently, extracting his hand as soon as was respectful. He expected the foreign prince to walk away, but he seemed intent on befriending his Lucian counterpart. He clambered up onto the couch, bouncing for a moment before beaming at Noctis.

“You’re part fish, aren’t yah! That’s why you’re so pretty!”

“Mhm! Daddy said I couldn’t take my blankie off though…” He looked down, then up at Ignis pleadingly. “Iggy, can I please show Prom?? Please??” He begged, doe-eyes melting the advisor. He sighed, looking up at the Marshal who was looking away purposefully, a hint of a smile curling his lip. _Guess the decision is up to me._ Ignis groaned and lightly stripped back the blanket, showing the galaxy tail and milky mint fins that adorned Noctis. Prompto reached forward with the boldness only a child could possess, stroking the scales and squishing the fins curiously. Noctis didn’t seem to mind—apparently transfixed by Prompto’s freckles. Ignis relaxed lightly, but it was clear to everyone else in the room he was ready to protect his charge should that moment arrive.

Nyx slowly stood as well, moving forward curiously. He perched on the coffee table a few feet away, not entering the personal bubble of the prince. Ignis’s eyes darted to him, pulling Noctis a little closer.

“You’re so pretty!” Prompto chirped, breaking the tension as Noctis beamed with pride.

“Thank you! Mama said I was pretty too! She said that’s why she liked me so much!”

“Really?? My mommy says I’m pretty too! She says I look like a elf… I dunno what that is, but mommy says they’re super cool!”

“And what does Mommy call you?” Gladio snickered, bumping Nyx’s shoulder as he sat down next to the Galahdian prince. Nyx didn’t waste a beat before sniping back.

“She calls me Daddy of course.” Ignis glared at the two of them, looking in shock as Cor snorted once before schooling his expression once more.

“What are you gentlemen talking about?” Luna called, striding back over and watching as they all straightened their postures. Nyx bit his cheek, flashing a winning smile at his wife.

“Nothing darling." She shook her head, sighing lightly as she looked down at Noctis. She kneeled down once more, seeing the apprehension beginning to surface again. He was nervous, there were so many new people. She could understand that.

“Your Highness, we’re going to have to do some magic on you, okay?” She asked, taking his hands lightly. Noctis paled at the suggestion, glancing down at his visible tail and flicking the fins lightly.

“W-will mama be okay with it?”

“I believe she will, yes.”

“… okay…” The prince reluctantly agreed, raising his arms. Gladio was quick to scoop him up, cradling him tenderly.

“I gotcha kiddo.”

“We’ll do it in his room,” Regis informed the room, his tone somber as he wrapped the blanket around Noctis’s tail once more and used another blanket to cover his head. He didn’t want to agree to the magic once he’d learned the truth of his son’s injury. If Leviathan was keeping him stable, then reversing her magic may inadvertently lead to injuring Noctis.

But there was little choice.

Noctis couldn’t remain in the citadel as he was. It was too dangerous. He’s already a target to Niflhiem, but considering his miraculous return to life, religious fanatic groups would also begin to target him. The king squeezed his eyes tight as he bit back the image of his limp son. He had to trust the Astral’s plan. They’d sent Noctis back as a little merboy, but they must have known he needed to be human. They would protect him. They already had.

So Regis agreed, reluctantly, to the procedure. Noctis would have feet again. But looking at the small boy and how he happily flicked his tail about, he wondered if he was doing the right thing. He knew Noctis’ fate. He knew that pain would be awaiting his son upon reaching adulthood…

perhaps if he were stronger, he’d let his son return to the ocean. He could live happily under the water with the ocean goddess. He could swim to his hearts content and never have to worry about the world or the people that wished him harm. But Regis was not strong enough to say goodbye to his son again.

He was a selfish king.

All he wanted was the years the Astrals promised to him. He wanted to cherish what time he had left, even if that meant stripping Noctis of his claim to the sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOT! 
> 
> Okay I loved loved LOVED writing this chapter so much??   
> I wanted to bring Prompto in, but I never expected to like Nyx and Luna's dynamic so much?? It was so fun having characters teasing each other and genuinely having fun.
> 
> I hope you guys don't mind the quick update! I wrote this chapter before Gladio's and I've already edited it so... owo
> 
> I really love the elements of worldbuilding that I have been able to sneak in. I have this whole vision in my head of what the kingdom of Galahd looks like! And what Tenebrae looks like too!  
>  Unfortunately, things are gonna be a little harder for Noctis going forward. But with everyone's love and support, he will be okay! Pinkie Promise! :D
> 
> As always, thank you for all the love and comments!   
> I look forward to more <3 
> 
> \- Shinya Argentum -


	6. A New Normal

Ignis’s life had a new routine. A new normal.

Once upon a time, he was groomed to be the prince’s advisor. He was raised in lessons and tutorials, learning everything he could about the kingdom before the prince came of age. Anything that he could possibly do to make life easier for the young prince, he did. He learned to cook extravagant meals, always delighting in the smiles he earned from the young prince. He spent his free time drawing, creating sketches and paintings of the world outside the citadel that Noctis couldn’t see. Anything to make the prince smile.

He remembered so clearly kneeling on the citadel steps, clasping those small pudgy hands as the cherry-bright cheeks as Noctis happily prepared to leave for his first trip out of Insomnia. How excited he had been and the way he patted Ignis's face and said, _"I'll be back soon! Don't worry!"_

And then like a cloud suddenly covering the moon’s light, Noctis died.

Ignis didn’t know what to do in the wake of losing the prince. He was fifteen at the time, staring helplessly as the king announced to the kingdom that Noctis Lucis Caelum had died. He remembered sitting in Regis’ office alongside Gladio, listening as the King informed them that they had called back the search teams. That they couldn’t expend any more resources searching for his _body_.

Something broke in Ignis as he wandered the citadel halls with no real purpose, listening to the murmurs from the servants. They could talk all they wanted, the entire kingdom could mock the king for expending resources they didn’t have for an entire year looking for Noctis’ body. Nothing mattered. It took a few years for Ignis to learn that it was Niflhiem that had sent the Marilith careening down on Noctis’ caravan that fateful day. It took approximately thirty seconds for that knowledge to engrave itself in his brain.

He left for the front lines the next week.

Ignis Scientia, the ghost’s blade, that’s what he came to be known as. He was merciless in his assassinations, ruthless on the battlefield wearing a stylized helm like the prince’s own crown. He would be Noctis’ retribution on the world. He would be the prince’s hand.

He had blood on his hands. So much blood. He dreamed in red. Lived in hatred.

He opened his eyes, feeling the hammer of adrenaline that now accompanied his initial wake. It was quiet in his chambers, he felt his body settle itself, breathing coming easier as he unclenched his fingers from the dagger he had summoned unconsciously. He was in the citadel. He reminded himself of that as he sat up, fetching his glasses from his side table and gazing out at the sunrise of the crown city. It had been so long since he’d seen the world in color.

He took a steadying breath, slipping out of bed and dressing quickly. He grabbed ebony from the six-pack he had underneath his bed along with a small bundle of reports and papers. Who knew how long he'd be in the prince's chambers--not that he minded. He smiled to himself, taking a breath before he left his chambers.

He walked quickly through the hallways, up towards the king’s room. He stopped only once to show his I.D. to the crownsguard standing at attention by the entrance to the king’s wing. He paused beside the door to the king's pool. He allowed himself a moment to drag his gloved finger through the condensation gathering on the door. With a simple shake of his head, he continued walking.

He passed the king’s chambers, taking another moment to steady him before he arrived in front of the newly constructed chambers for the prince. He nodded at Gladio who was standing at attention outside the smooth black door.

“Anything noteworthy occur?”

“Nah, just the usual. They gave him something for the pain three hours ago.” Ignis checked his watch, frowning. It was only 7:30. Three hours ago meant the prince had been awake at 4:30. He would speak to the staff about this later, pulling out his own notepad to jot down the information. Gladio watched him wordlessly, opening the door when he received the curt nod of his friend. The shield escorted Ignis into the chambers as he did every morning.

The room itself was meticulously constructed, a small sitting area at the front, followed by a “simple” kitchenette that would put most chef’s kitchens to same. From there it expanded into a larger living room with a couch and a television set up with all of the latest video games. There were board games, cards, an extensive library curated by none other than the prince’s shield—anything that could entertain the little prince. From there, a large curtain made of soft blue velvet separated the prince’s bedchambers from everything else.

It was large and extravagant, Regis sparing no expense for his prince. Even though it was beautiful, Ignis could see the touches here and there—the security cameras in the ceiling, the silent alarm that Gladio disengaged immediately upon entering. All of that and more that Ignis couldn’t yet see. He glanced towards the door that led to the king’s chambers, smiling to himself.

At the very least, the king would get to spend more time with his son.

He focused his energy back on his task, stepping into the large room that was decorated as if it were a nursery. The soft carpet that Noctis had not yet felt, the multitude of blankets and the vase with a bouquet Iris herself had made especially for the prince. There was a mobile above Noctis—probably from his original room—with cute versions of the astrals slowly twirling above the sleeping boy’s head. The bed itself was pushed into the corner of the room, a large bay window next to him swarmed by plushies and blankets. The prince himself was asleep in a bundle of said blankets made of silk and mink.

It was easy to ignore the I.V. stand or the pile of medications next to his bed. It was easy to pretend for a moment that this was normal and Ignis was merely attending to his prince.

He gently settled himself on the bed, not expecting any reaction as he leaned down and pressed his lips to the prince’s forehead for merely a moment. Touching the prince reminded him that this was real. Noctis was real. Alive. He let his shaky breath settle in the air before he rose.

“I assume you haven’t eaten— _No_ Anak jerky does not count, Gladiolus. Honestly.” Ignis shook his head, hurrying over to start breakfast. Gladio merely grinned his shaky-smile and pulled over a chair to sit by Noctis’ side.

“The doctor confirmed that he is able to eat solid food again. His teeth may be a little sore but it’s important to get him accustomed to our food again.” Gladio called, followed by a harsh shush from Ignis who was fiddling with the stovetop. The shield shook his head with a soft laugh, grabbing the book Regis had been reading the previous night. It was a children’s tale about the sea—about how Leviathan guarded the seals and the dolphins or something like that. He glanced to the prince, at his soft rounded fingernails. “He misses the ocean a lot, huh…?”

“… he spent most of his life there. It is not abnormal to experience homesickness, especially considering his abrupt removal from his home.” Ignis called with the hint of bitterness wafting through his voice. The sizzle of eggs as they crackled lively from the other side of the curtain was the only sound for the minutes that stretched after that.

They’d all heard from Regis how there had actually been a _bounty_ on Noctis. The little merboy living in the quay for who knows how long before they’d arrived. They’d seen for themselves how his fins would glow in dark water, lighting his way. There was almost a shooting-star pattern along his side, darting through the water like a comet of his own making. Noctis had explained in slow stilted speech that one day he had woken up far from his home. He’d been in the shallow waters of Galdin and despite numerous attempts to venture into the deep waters to find his mama, the currents always guided him back to shore.

“I guess I always considered _this_ his home,” Gladio muttered, hands working up to tangle in Noctis’ soft feathery hair. He didn't wake up, but scrunched his nose delicately, whining a touch as he squirmed closer to the large hand.

“We all do,” Ignis replied, carrying a plate of soft fluffy scrambled eggs over with a little glass of milk. There were sprinkles of pepper and sea salt on top, painted by a delicate line of ketchup. He sat it down on the side table, taking a deep and slow breath. He reached over and gently shook Noctis’ shoulder, hating how thin it felt under his hand.

“Noctis…” He murmured gently, moving up to brush his hair out of his face. “Noct, it’s time to get up.” Bleary blue eyes began to open. They shook as they stared at Ignis, followed by a high pitched whine of pain. The sound cut through Ignis every time, and he nodded at Gladio who gently propped the prince’s back up. He was barely awake, head nodding off to the side as he tried to focus on Ignis in front of him.

“Good morning, Noct.” He murmured, voice full with adoration as Gladio gently began to pull back the blankets. The boy moaned but Ignis was there, keeping his arm around the prince’s shoulders and gently rubbing soothing circles into his back.

“I know, Noctis… but we need to do your morning stretches.” Gladiolus smiled gently, he found that little Noctis seemed to relax even with his so-called “terrifying” smirk. Noctis said that Gladio looked like a shark, and Gladio was fully willing to accept that title.

With the blankets off, the two men sighed at the unmoving legs that lay discarded under the sheets.

Lady lunafreya had done her best, she really did. But the process had not gone smoothly. Scars cut through his flesh where his fins used to be, breaking the smooth skin on his shoulders and hips. His legs had nearly been a lost cause.

After the initial transformation, Noctis had stared in horror at his unmoving feet. He’d begged Regis to turn him back. He’d clung to Ignis and pled, demanded, whined, cried, everything that he could to get his tail back. Now he was quiet—not the sunny child that had been returned to them. He was depressed, that much was clear, confined to his new chambers, hooked up to machines and medicine to keep him healthy. He didn’t speak much.

Yesterday they’d tried to file his teeth down to make them more human, but they were still rather sharp. Normal enough to not cause a second glance—until he smiled that it. Still… they hadn’t seen him smile since Luna had taken away his fins.

Gladio was gently rotating his ankle, running his legs through their full range of motion—ever gentle and ever careful. Shocks of pain rolled up Noctis’ spine like his leg was a lightning rod, directing the electricity into his spine where it hummed in agony. Each gentle twist from Gladio left him rolling in pain, waking him up and into the new world of pain and agony. It left tears stinging in his eyes and him struggling to take in breaths.

Ignis was swift to slide a little mask onto his nose and mouth, letting him breathe in the concentrated air.

This was Ignis’s new normal. Not battlefields and blood but a war he had to fight every single day. The stretches were over soon enough and then Noctis was slowly eating his fluffy eggs. The spoon trembled in his fist, not used to the metal tool. It scraped against his sharp teeth and made his face pucker in tears. It was painful to see. Painful to know that every day would be like this.

“Noctis… we have something different planned for the day.” Ignis told him gently as Gladio gently massaged the prince’s tiny toes. The prince looked up, milk foaming on his upper lip. His tongue darted out, licking at his milky mustache. Gladio frowned at Ignis, before lighting up.

“That’s right! We're going to get your suit ready for your debut!” Gladio hummed excitedly, hoping to encourage a smile from Noctis.

“Indeed.” Ignis took off his glove before returning to rubbing the prince’s head.

“You’re going to leave your room.”

“Why? Am I going home?” Both men’s expression’s soured, but they were quick to tighten their smiles.

“No. Noctis this is your home.”

“… Mama isn’t here.”

“But your father is.” Ignis insisted, something inside of him wanting only to make Noctis smile.

“Daddy…” Noctis snuffled slightly, before nodding. “Will daddy be there?

“He will be, he's going to introduce you to some friends.”

“Not the white lady.” Noctis quickly said. Gladio sucked in his cheek, laughing weakly.

“Why don’t we call her Luna instead of that, hm?” He offered.

“… Luna hurts… She hurts so bad.” Noctis ground the heels of his hands into his arms, sobs devolving into hiccups as he curled into a tiny ball. Arms were around him, holding and comforting but he wanted the warm embrace of the water and the silky way it flowed over his skin—far softer than any of the blankets this kingdom could provide. The way the world looked as it stirred and breathed all around him. He longed for the water, to look up at the sun and see it stir and curl behind the waves. How the fish would play and tickle his fins. He wanted that world more than anything.

“I'm so sorry, kid.” Gladio breathed and he truly meant it. He was far from the prince that they’d lost. He was a child—more a creature than anything. The little prince had lived underwater for fifteen years.

“… Why don’t we get ready, Noct? The king will be here shortly.” All they could do was continue on—give the prince everything he deserved and the life he should have had had Niflhiem not intervened.

* * *

The announcement would be made in the throne room, Regis had finally decided after much deliberation. He wanted nothing more than to keep his son tucked in the depths of the citadel, but he couldn’t hide any longer. He was a king, and he had to increasingly remind himself of that as he spent long hours in Noctis’ room, trying to ensure his son was as happy as he could be. Even so, it was hard to get his son to smile nowadays.

Not since Luna had removed his fins and tail.

He wondered every day if that was the right decision. The day of his announcement had rapidly arrived, however. Regis stood in his room as one of his chamberlains helped him straighten his reinment.

He huffed at the help but eventually was given the seal of approval. He rolled his eyes, pushing open the adjoining door and stepping into the soft room of his son. He could feel the sleepy air, the slightly musty smell that came from spending a week in bed. He hardly minded, walking over to the bed and easing himself down.

His hand came, lightly running over his son’s short hair. His lips quirked up, beaming like the sun itself as his son leaned into his father’s aged hand.

“Starfish…” He teased gently, rubbing soothing circles into the crown of his son’s head. He saw the flicker of eyes, the crinkle of his son’s nose, a small sneeze followed by an even tinier yawn.

“… daddy…” He whined, curling closer to his dad. Regis tutted adoringly, scooping up the blankets and maneuvering his son to lay against his chest. “Good morning, Noctis.” He murmured gently, hugging him tightly for a brief moment before the tiny boy stretched his arms lazily. “Today’s a big day. Did you know that?” The small boy shook his head, cocking it to the side like a confused chocochick. “Today you’re going to meet some of my… our friends.”

“Ig?” Noctis asked sleepily, pawing at the sleep in his eyes. Regis’ eyes twinkled.

“Ignis will be there, yes.”

“Gladdy?”

“Him too.”

“Uncle Cor?”

“Yes, all of our friends.” He laughed easily, bouncing the boy a little and earning a startled giggle.

“Do I needa wear people clothes…?” He asked nervously, his little fingers digging into Regis’ silken pants. The king took pity on the fear that sparked in his son’s eyes, but he had to nod.

“Yes, yes you do. Little princes needed to wear pants in public.” His tiny nose wrinkled up, eyebrows furrowed as he puffed up his cheeks lightly.

“No excuses, Star.” Regis teased, seeing the beginning of a tantrum.

“… Can we get cake after?” Noctis asked softly, fiddling with one of the chains that adorned the king. “Together?” His heart was swollen with love at the tiny question. It reminded him of the kind of father he’d been prior to Noctis’ “ _death_ ”. He would change that now. He would be a good father to his child.

“I’d love that.” Regis smiled, pressing a fuzzy kiss to Noctis’ forehead, smiling when the boy protested and whined. He heard the click of the door opening, saw Ignis entering with a small bag of groceries. He froze when he saw the king, bowing lightly at him as he walked over quickly.

“Majesty.” He murmured, eyeing the swaddled child. Regis watched with fascination as Ignis’s icy expression melted upon seeing the young prince awake and squirming. “Little highness.”

“‘M not lil…” Noctis whined, burying his nose into his father’s jacket, breathing in the oaky scent of his cologne. The slight ozone that hung around him and the constant magic that radiated from him.

“That’s true. You’re awfully large for a fish.” Ignis hummed tapping his chin with his gloved hand. That got Noctis to show his face, flashing a quick sharky smile.

“That’s right! I am a big fish! A HUGE FISH!”

“Yes, and a stinky one.” Ignis hummed playfully, offering his arms out as Regis shifted the prince into the advisor’s arms. He patted his son’s hand gently, smiling easily at him. There was something about this man that he trusted caring for his beloved son.

“I will see you both in the throne room shortly.” He sighed as he heaved himself up, collecting his cane. He kissed his thumb and pressed it to Noctis’s nose, taking him in as if every moment could be their last. With a final smile, Regis left the room, shutting their adjoining door behind him.

Ignis waited for him to go, bowing lightly before smiling at Noctis.

“Shall we begin, Noct?”

“Do I have a choice.”

“Not in the least.” Ignis chuckled, earning another precious smile. He would treasure each one, tucking them away in his mind where no one could take these gem-like memories.

* * *

 

The throne room was packed. The media buzzed like nosey flies through the royal assembly. Prince Nyx and lady Lunafreya stood close to the Dias, chatting quietly with Regis. Prince Prompto bounced by his father’s feet, holding his camera happily. Regis had even given him a small lanyard, announcing him as a member of the press. He seemed ecstatic at the badge and was happily taking pictures of everything around him. Regis laughed as he pulled out a little notepad and asked the king some questions. He was more than happy to humor the small boy. Aside from family friends, most of the kingsglaive were present. They stood in the shadows, but Regis was taking no chances. He was soft towards his son, but he’d sharpened his blade for fifteen years. No way in hell was something bad befalling his child again.

King Drautos—Nyx’s father—huffed as he watched the king interact with his grandson. Drautos and Regis certainly weren’t friends, but their countries were allied so Drautos showed up.

Little information had been released to the public regarding the king’s sudden disappearance from the public eye. Regis didn’t know how to inform the public, didn’t know what he could and couldn’t say regarding his son’s ‘condition’. He checked his watch, humming at the time before gazing from the Dias down the carpeted room.

It was time.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of Insomnia, foreign dignitaries, friends, and family.” He boomed, silencing the room. All eyes were on him, the heat of the cameras burned through his suit. He smiled at them all, something he’d perfected over the years. “I must apologize for my disappearance these past two months. It was not my intention to leave my post so suddenly, nor were the circumstances such that I could neglect my duty. It has been a long fifteen years since the passing of my son. Years wrought with grief and suffering.” He sucked in a breath, seeing Cor opening the door, seeing that small wheelchair and his even smaller son. “That comes to an end today, for my son, Noctis Lucis Caelum XIV has been returned safely through the grace of the astrals themselves!”

And the world erupted in flashbulbs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bitch to write ;-; I just dont have any motivation lately  
> Hopefully that will change soon! 
> 
> I found this artwork on Twitter https://twitter.com/kyubentasy15/status/1114788910339481600  
> So if any of you are wondering what Fishy Noct looks like, then there you go :D 
> 
> ANYWAYS! I promise to get back in a roll soon enough. Pinkie swear.
> 
> Questions/Comments/Kudos always welcome :D


	7. I Bring Tidings of Peace

Noctis had never seen so many lights in his young life. He blinked desperately, raised his hands up to ward away all of the flashes that seemed to hide behind his eyelids when he tried to close them. The chair beneath him ground to a halt as the press swarmed around him—all sense of boundaries lost to them.

Gladio was close, one hand wrapped reassuringly around Noctis’s where it gripped the armrest. He wasn’t supposed to move much. He wasn’t supposed to move or else the high collar of his finely tailored suit could shift and show the scars his gills had become. His father told him very clearly, while they had been cutting his hair and wrapping the sore scars, that the people wouldn’t understand his fins. That they might get violent and hurt Noctis. He didn’t want that. He shrunk in on himself, his tiny hand wrapping around one of Gladio’s meaty fingers. The contact seemed to fuel the shield’s anger as he growled at the reporters, barking something that was lost in the slew of voices that suddenly competed for attention.

“Prince Noctis-!”

“Is that really him!?”

“Why is he in a wheelchair!?”

“N-noct?”

Noctis felt his raw ears twitch at the small voice. He locked eyes—through the haze of bulbs—on the Galahdian prince. He was holding a small camera and bounced on his toes as he was jostled by the crowd. The prince felt the familiar needles in his eyes, that buzzed and bumped until tears joined them. Everyone was too close now, their hands brushing his jacket, their odors overwhelming him. Fuzzy microphones were shoved by his mouth. He couldn’t even see his father through the mess of people. He had to fix that.

A shell appeared in his hand—maybe the media noticed but they said nothing.

They didn’t back away.

They didn’t leave him alone.

Noctis screwed up his lips—he remembered Ignis telling him that he shouldn’t talk. That the people may be scared by his pointy teeth. Noctis thought that was foolish, he hadn’t bitten anyone so they had no reason to be scared. Ignis also said that he would be safe, but right now he didn’t feel safe at all.

A scream broke the crowd apart just a little, adults blinking at the teary faced boy. They parted just enough that Noctis could see his anxious father and the crowns guard that were slowly getting the reporters back in line.

They were too slow.

He threw the shell, watching as it sailed high in the air. Noctis sucked in a breath and then let it out, feeling his body twist and shrink as space warped around him. Soul shards fell from him like glitter as he sat in the air for just a second, looking down at the shocked crowd. They were so colorful, like fish in the reefs of his home. All staring and lights flashing. The sun caught on him from the large windows, catching the motes of dust like starlight around the little prince. He took that all in before he began to fall.

He didn’t get far in his descent, multiple bodies warping after him. The hands that caught him weren’t familiar, but the scent was calming. It reminded him of the small blonde prince so he didn’t protest the cradle that the arms formed around him. The room was filled lively silence, everyone watching as Nyx landed in a roll with Noctis hugged to his chest. Nyx let out a startled laugh as if not quite sure that his body had moved. He sat up investigating his suit which he’d managed to rip. Reminder to self, royal suits are not meant for warping. He rolled his neck, bouncing Noctis gently before walking up the Dias with that friendly smirk.

Regis had his hand pressed weakly to his heart as if to stop it from hammering out of his chest. Noctis was waving his arms, making soft little mewls and the king was eager to quiet them. He gratefully accepted Noctis into his arms, hugging him tightly to disguise the tremor that hummed through his very bones.

“I was scared…” Noctis whispered against him, nuzzled close, the little crown that anointed his head catching on Regis’s clothes.

“I'm sorry Noctis.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to his head, watching him for a long moment before he dragged his steely eyes up to the crowd. He had been a fool to think that people could remain calm and he had put his son into a position that even adults would get flustered in. Ignis and Gladio looked like death’s incarnate and he almost felt pity for the reporters who had angered them.

Gladio picked up the delicate wheelchair, carrying it up the few steps and placing it next to Regis but the king shook his head. Judging from the white-knuckled grip his son had his jacket in, it was unlikely Regis would be able to convince him to let him go. Clarus pulled over a large chair instead that Regis slowly sat in, sighing as his knee popped uncomfortably within the brace. It took a few moments for Regis to position Noctis to face the crowd. He rubbed his back, trying to keep him calm.

When Noctis had been _taken,_ because he couldn't really say that Noctis had died anymore, he couldn’t use basic elemancy, much less actual warping. They had never considered that despite his stagnant age, his magic would have continued to mature. Something to consider later, for sure.

Ignis took position close to the king, his back to the two of them as he faced the crowd of reporters who looked quite meek under the raging glares of their ruler and his closest confidants.

“We will now be taking questions, however, I am remiss if I do not remind you that his Highness is _only_ eight years old. Your inability to restrain yourself before scared him. Should this happen again or should your questions be deemed inappropriate we will end this press conference immediately.” He stated with the practiced lilt to his voice that only barely hid the anger that stiffened the aide’s shoulder and fisted his fingers. Ignis cast a glance back at Noctis, heat racing through his veins when the tear tracks caught in the citadel’s light. This was not war. He could not murder the men and women who caused those tears, but he would certainly fantasize about repaying them for every single tear and whimper that broke through the prince’s shell-pink lips.

Hands flew up and Ignis prepared himself for the many inane questions he was about to filter through.

“Why is the prince still eight?” One jumpy reporter asked before his turn, followed by the curious bobbing of heads of his peers.

“According to his Highness, he lived under the protection of the Astrals. As such, he did not age. We have every reason to believe that he will continue aging now that he has been returned. Next.” Camera’s flashed, pens and pencils scratched on notepads.

“How are you certain that that is the prince?” A particularly bold man asked, flashing a greasy smile at Ignis who practically bristled at the question. “Dino, Insomnia press.”

“He is without a doubt Noctis Lucis Caelum,” Regis spoke gently, keeping an easy smile on his face as he bounced his knee lightly. He was grateful when Noctis gave a small smile, holding onto his father as he bounced gently. “His magic says so. As the protector of the crystal, the Astrals bestowed powers upon the Lucis Caelum line. I, as the king, am able to share my powers with those who attend my side. Noctis possessed an extraordinary amount of magic himself, as he would one day inherit the throne. His ability to warp—the teleportation you just witnessed—is a testimony to his legitimacy.” Regis smiled as he stroked the back of Noctis’s hair which seemed insistent on standing up in little curls and cowlicks. “Barring his magic, we have also performed DNA and blood tests—all of them confirmed Noctis’s identity.”

“Daddy, are we done?”

“Almost, Star.” Regis murmured, looking ruefully at the endless sea of hands that stretched up. “Would you like to pick someone?” He asked in hopes of appeasing his child. Noctis frowned softly, then smiled and pointed at Prompto. The boy looked elated at being called on as he hurried up the Dias, prompted by Nyx how gave him a little pat.

“Hi, er— greetings, your highness.”

"Hi.” Noctis grinned, flashing his little shark teeth. Prompto snapped a picture, giggling as he showed his young friend before he stepped back and cleared his throat.

“Your Highness, what is your favorite fish?” The room seemed to freeze before it broke into unhappy complaints. The major reporters were grumbling loudly, clearly annoyed by the delay in their _important_ questions. Ignis shot them death glares before turning a reassuring smile on his prince who looked a little cowed by the grumbles of the masses. With Ignis’s approval, the fishy prince began to give the question some serious thought. Noctis was chewing on his thumbnail before Regis scolded him. It was clear he was putting a great deal of thought into this question.

“I like… um…” He hummed softly, rocking side to side before he lit up. “I like Gar! All kinds of Gar! Big Gar and small Gar!” Prompto immediately jotted down his answer in sloppy letters that looped and spilled all over the paper. He glanced up through dandelion lashes at Regis.

“C-can I ask another one?”

“Of course.” Regis laughed, grinning at the sunshine that seemed to flood through Prompto’s smile.

“YAY! Oh! Um, um, what’s your least favorite food?”

“Veggies.” Ignis sighed at the immediate answer, massaging the bridge of his nose. “I hate carrots the most though. Iggy likes them a lot though. I think it’s cuz he looks like one…” Prompto slapped his hands over his mouth to stop from laughing. Even Gladio had to bite back a laugh on that one.

“I think that’s enough questions for now, young lord.” Ignis gently corralled Prompto away from the Lucian royalty, but not before Prompto performed a sloppy bow and hurried back to Nyx and Luna who shared their son’s sunny smile. The advisor shook his head, smiling lightly before facing the reporters once more. “Next.”

* * *

 

“Unfortunately private interviews are not allowed at this time,” Ignis growled. “As I have stated several times.” It had been an hour of questions, an hour of stupid people asking even stupider questions. They truly did not understand the concept of _NO_.

Regis remained the picture of decorum, his political smile plastered in place as he surveyed the crowd. For the most part he allowed either Ignis or Cor to answer the more mundane questions. When questions were asked directly to the young prince, Noctis managed to answer them with as much decorum as he could summon. He’d straighten his back, stare at the man or woman who’d asked the question and speak slowly. Something about the scene cut into Ignis’s chest.

It wasn’t right that Noctis should be used to press conferences and publicity. He should be allowed to live with as much freedom as possible. Even with that pulse of anger, the nights had been long and rest elusive. The advisor could feel his body calling for ebony, exhaustion tugging at the corners of his eyes. He shook his head slightly, straightening his shoulders.

“Will Prince Noctis be reinstated as Crown Prince?”

“There is little precedent for situations like this in the past, but as of this moment, his Highness is the heir to his Majesty. There will be a formal festival in a few weeks to celebrate this ceremony.” Ignis replied swiftly, feeling the hitch of pain that tugged at his own magic. The king was only human and his own sorrow was still woven into the essence of his magic. Ignis had grown used to feeling the tug and pinch of the king’s emotions as they played with their shared magical core. He hoped the king would be able to find some peace with Noctis' return but the media was proving to be a greater problem than even Ignis thought.

The hands had slowly diminished and it looked like this monotonous event would be over soon. Noctis had fallen asleep several questions back, drooling innocently on his father’s chest while the world continued on without him. Gladio had that half-smile he wore while on duty, the one that Ignis knew would become a beaming grin once the public was gone.

“Will his highness be able to walk again?”

“No comment.”

“Will his highness need a wheelchair for the rest of his life?”

“No comment.”

“How’d he sustain such terrible injuries.”

“No comment.” Ignis sighed, wanting nothing more than to sit down for a second and yawn.

“My my, this seems like a wonderful party.” A voice tolled through the crowd like a church bell. Something old and commanding. The sharp pull in his magic made Ignis nearly gasp. His eyes flew to Regis who was standing, unaided by his cane, clutching Noctis like the Marilith had returned from the ocean’s depths to steal his son away once more. “It’s a shame  _I_ wasn’t invited, I would have brought a present for the long lost Prince!” A man was parting the crowd, walking with a swish of fabrics colliding. Ignis blinked at the outfit—if the situation had been anything different, he could have scoffed at how ridiculous this man looked.

Even so, the tiny boy found that his accent was familiar, those golden eyes haunting.

_Who was he?_

Clarus and Cor moved forward in tandem, weapons drawn and eyes wary as they took up position next to his Majesty. Reporters were scattered to the side, cameras blinking as the man stopped at the bottom of the dias. A breath passed before he slowly climbed it. His eyes were locked with the sleepy blue of the newly awakened prince. Hunger. Ignis felt it more than he saw it, the curl of the man’s lips as he wrinkled his nose, peering at the prince. The roll of his fingers as they extended from their loose fist. He bowed dramatically—too far to be considered polite—before the royalty, eyes never leaving Noctis.

“Your most Royal Highness, I am overjoyed to welcome you back after so long apart from your beloved father~” His voice almost sang, but did nothing to ease the tension that was slowly building in the room. Another step was greeted by daggers in Ignis's hands and the _shing_ of Gladio’s broadsword as it materialized from the armiger.

“Chancellor Izunia.” It was Cor’s voice, thick with anger that caused the chancellor to pivot towards the shorter man. He smiled with half his mouth, like the rest of his face couldn’t catch up with his mirth. “What brings Niflhiem to this _closed event?_ ”

“My my, I simply heard the joyous news from a little bird~!” He stepped closer, seeming not to notice, or care, how the room recoiled in his presence. He lowered himself slightly so that he was eye level with the baby prince. “The boy who would someday be king~~” He hummed, only looking up when Regis' anger spiked, the king nearly spitting flames at the presence of Niflhiem in the citadel. This was Lucis’ stronghold, supposedly a safe place for his son. Now he would dare taunt Noctis with a destiny he couldn’t hope to fathom. The king tightened his grip on the boy, pressing his nose to his jacket as if that would keep the ever-curious boy from squirming around to stare at the chancellor. Noctis cocked his head sleepily, pawing at one of his large innocent eyes, trying to drag the sleep out that still clung in clumps to his thick ebony lashes.

“‘M not a king. I’m the prince.” He stated with little pomp or frills. Ardyn laughed brightly, a full body chuckle that made his scarfs shake.

“Oh, pay no mind to the ramblings of an old man. There is still much growing to do.” He laughed, dancing backward as Gladio leveled his sword at the intruder’s throat. “Oh dear! Such violence! Be careful, Shield of the lost, you wouldn’t want to start a war now, would you?”

“Why the hell would Niflhiem show up when you’re the damn bastards that tried to kill the prince in the first place!” He snapped and for once, no one corrected him. No one cared about the cameras or flashing lights. All eyes were on this intruder, this living embodiment of fifteen years of grief and sorrow.

“Would you believe I come with a peace offering~?” Ardyn asked, smile spreading like disease across his face, skin crinkling in deep wrinkles.

“Likely story,” Gladio growled, flinching when Cor grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back just enough that the sword no longer hovered like guillotine by the chancellor’s throat.

Regis passed Noctis to Ignis, settling the little prince, who looked mildly curious by the new person. He cocked his head innocently at the weightless feeling he had in Ignis’s sturdy arms. Regis smiled, trying to keep his expression neutral before slowly approaching the chancellor as his magic swirled around him—not a full-blown armiger, but the twinkle of soul shards humming in the space that separated the king from the jester.

“Why would Niflhiem come offering peace, unannounced and unwelcome at my son’s reintroduction to society after your daemon nearly robbed him of his life?” Regis spoke calmly, something his retinue admired immensely. There was the man who had stolen fifteen years from all of them—who had caused Noctis such indescribable pain—and yet Regis was able to keep a cool head, think rationally.

Ardyn slowly, obviously, tapped his chin as if to make a scene out of thinking. He hummed out loud, a heavy pout on his lips, eyes dragging over to Ignis and Noctis. The prince was staring at him, something like recognition upon his mouth, eyes bright blue beams. Oh how familiar he looked, clutched to the chest of a protector—for was that not how Somnus had looked, clinging to Gilgamesh?—and yet different. There was something off to him. The pulse of his magic was stronger than he anticipated, but fueled by something beyond the crystal that slept in the walls of this very citadel.

He didn’t want to speak to the king of Stone, destined to die and join the hoard of ancestors, Ardyn’s descendants. No, he wanted to talk to the chosen one, glowing with power that these mortals were too blind to see.

“I merely came to confirm for myself, you know, rumors only grow.” He purred delicately, examining his fingernails for a moment, apparently dissatisfied by what he found. “I can tell my presence is unwelcome, but perhaps, I could propose a ceasefire, hm? Wouldn’t that please your majesty?” He asked, turning on his heel to smirk at the still regent. Regis was frozen where he stood. There hadn’t been talks of a ceasefire, much less peace since the war itself began. This war predated the current king, in fact, Regis couldn’t remember a time when Niflhiem hadn’t been sending Lucian soldiers back in body bags.

“Why now?” He asked, eyes flickering over to Noctis. Ardyn followed his gaze, softly laughing as he moved forward. Nyx and Gladio blocked him immediately, weapons drawn and eyes narrowed. “Such animosity~” He teased, looking over the prince of Galahd. “Remember your place boy.” He hissed quietly, but even his harsh words didn’t cow the foreign prince. The chancellor sighed, turning his back on the two guardians.

“I tire of this charade, your majesty.” He crooned, producing an invitation from within his massive jacket. He handed it to Regis with a tip of his hat. “Consider this an invitation. For both you and the young prince. I look forward to playing with you again, King Regis.” He smirked, sweeping once more into the low mocking bow, before descending the dias and disappearing out the open door, gone like a breath of wind.

No one said a word, shock making the chattery media crowd finally silent. Their cameras flashed innocently as Regis pulled his son back into his arms, cradling his helpless legs.

“We’re done here.” He announced weakly, letting the cameras flash on his retreating back and capture the innocent little face that peaked over the monarch’s shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO! Guys this chapter was SO much easier to write! I've been super excited about bringing in the trashcan man himself. I love him as a villain, I love writing him and I just... I stan a well constructed villain. 
> 
> ANYWAYS~~~   
> Peace is on the horizon, or is it?? How did Ardyn get into the citadel in the first place?? Will Noctis get his fins back?? WILL PROMPTO BECOME A REPORTER???  
> These are the important questions hehee ^~^ 
> 
> <3 thank you for all your support as always!   
> ALSO! Thank you to UncleScourgedaddy for helping me write Ardyn! MUCH appreciated! <3 <3 
> 
> \- Shinya Argentum -


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